The Funny Little Man
I’ll take summer back.
I miss it already
fear for the winter which comes
too soon,
without my permission.
Comes to steal
my freedom,
my garden
warmth which comforts me,
even with its “fiery grip.”
Cool temperatures
“shofar” me into awakening
spiral me somewhere unknown and vast
yet contracted.
I hope for the rich colors of fall
to dispel loss,
the darkness that comes too early.
Stays the night.
And for the sun,
which shines
into the darkest of places
unraveling the twists and turns of life
to spring forth,
to blossom.
Woe to the funny little man
who cannot see beyond the hill.
I will take his hand,
walk with him to the valley,
to the little stream that swims with life
to bathe
in its mercy.
Read more by Hinda Blum.
Hinda, I love this poem. You have such a gift for writing poetry. I especially like the interesting use of the word “shofar.”
dear hinda, I’m glad you are gracing the readers of this blog with your poems…I relate and enjoyed reading about your yearning for summer to stay longer. many wonderful turns of phrasing here, and the personification of “darkness that comes… stays the night,” and other parts of nature, like the stream with its portion of mercy! looking forward to many more, blessings!