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Finest Hour (Free verse) by creedclay

A picturesque scene is set – A woman enters the room, Bathrobe encompassing her, trying to keep The warmth and comfort of bed and sleep Fresh in her mind. A mug is cupped in her hands, Full of life; one sugar, no cream. She sits at her window And gazes out across nature in its finest hour. A true picture of perfection lies outside the glass, A beauty that makes her gasp in awe and envy. New fallen snow sparkles in the bright morning sun, Diamonds among diamonds, no rough to be found. Columns of icicles adorn nearly every tree and branch, Causing sunlight to glint and twinkle, A wink from a proud father high above. Amongst the scene of natural splendor, A chickadee sits, perched upon a branch weighed heavy with winter. As the woman watches, the bird gracefully wings to the ground, To peck and forage amidst drifts of snow. She watches the bird, studies it, understands it – And feels pity, for here is nature at its finest, Surrounded by a beauty a thousand painters Could not do justice, And yet the bird is hungry, Cold, Alone. Just as these thoughts enter her mind, Just as she feels she understands what lay before her, The bird looks up, across the span of sparkling ice and snow, Through the pane of glass that separates two worlds, And, with an intelligence thought to be shared by only humans Looks into the woman’s eyes. A moment passes, A lifetime, An eternity, of understanding. And, as suddenly as it started, the bird looks away, Quickly forgetting the spark that was shared in favor Of a newly found seed. The woman’s feelings change in that instant. Pity becomes admiration, Admiration gives way to envy. Here before her was not a hungry, solitary bird. Instead, here was a picture of independence. Here was a nation of thinkers. Here was a race of autonomy. Here was a world of free will. Here was true, defined, unbridled freedom, The kind only nature could create, Soaring across the crisp, cold morning sky. As she watched the bird dwindle in the distance, Emotion seized her, and she wept – Her life was changed in that fleeting moment Of connection with nature, A moment that was shared with no other person, Simply a creature of nature, Imparting a lesson in life On a bright, beautiful winter day.

Shuushin 1-Apr-04/9:00 AM
not bad. a tad longer than it needs to be AND, I like to come to my own conclusions in a poem - without the author telegraphing what I should be perceiving.

Like telling me its a "picturesque scene" then proceeding to describe it to me. One or the other, preferrably the other.

Same thing with nature at its finest hour,
imparting a lesson in life - know what I mean, vern?




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