Interesting. I found this poem melancholy, even a little bitter. There are many, myself included, who could easily see the dark side of life. We've certainly earned the right. But some of us choose not to dwell on the darkness. We believe there is always light somewhere if we only look for it.

Rebecca

Your poem of truth reminded me (as if I could ever forget) of the way society has allowed and nurtured chaos as if it were some kind of holy grail to follow. Your poem instills, if needed, a sense of living with purpose and defensive armor against the many ways one's resistance is broken nowadays. Some synergy going on here as well, for I just posted "Precarious Stilts" that deals with much of your subtext. Yes, there are those of us who stay poised for the next surprise, and there are those who blissfully prance along, ignorant of the forces waiting for just the right moment... that moment when you make a decision without forethought. Well done, Ed. Another group of thoughts to re-read often.

Your poem moves with a kind of weathered honesty — the cold arrival, the bruising days, the uneasy meeting place between past and future. I especially like how you weave resignation and resilience together, letting fate, choice, and caution all share the same breath. The closing image of hidden dangers lurking behind the branches gives the whole piece a sharp, memorable edge. Well done.

"Poems are written by fools they say
That no-one wants to read
And love is a dying ember
Wasted on melancholy."

No truer words spoken, Ed. This is a lovely little composition, for it reminds us that despite our (shared) compulsion to expiate the chaos and confusion that overwhelms our human existence, the sad truth is that, as the egocentric creatures we are, we often forget that fickle fate has doomed us to stew in our own individual hells quietly, privately and forlornly, for the most part. What a rare and wonderful thing it is when something of someone else's (like this piece) resonates within us and reminds us that the bars of our personal jail are only imaginary! The hell we inhabit, as thinking, feeling and soulful individuals may be awful, but at least the inmates are good and worthy company! [And now I'm off to the local park with my grrrryl, but I shall indeed watch out for arboreal 'widow-makers', LoL, both virtual and real alike!]