Monday, 23 December 2013

A Winter Canvas

Winter can be as incredibly harsh as it can be incredibly beautiful. Such is life, and human nature. Art may well do its very best to interpret and record, but it can only ever be one interpretation of one particular moment in time…

 Claude Monet - Snow at Argenteuil (1875)


Straggly trees against a snowy sky,
robin redbreast in low key,
snowflakes like angels drifting by,
no more idea of what they’re doing,
where they’re going (or why)
than those of us down here, eagerly
lapping up the weather forecast
though for no particular reason other
than everyone else will be doing
much the same thing so there’s sense
of sorts in a camaraderie, missing
in our everyday lives, though friends,
and family do their best to assuage
our loneliness and poor self-esteem
where we can’t help comparing
ourselves with neighbours who seem
to be doing very nicely, thank you,
while we’re but getting nowhere fast
like the poor weather forecaster
always trying to convince us better
days are just ahead, robins singing
in winter, angels struggling to explain
why we’re all running around God’s
backyard like headless chickens, world
chasing its own tail after Peace
(its Holy Grail), politicians rallying
worn phrases tried and tested
(for election clout) to break out
just about everywhere...

Oh, but tell me, yes? What the heck
is it all for if not for us?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

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