Poetry Porch: Poetry


By Robert K. Johnson

Snowflakes that filled the air
like white feathers shaken loose
from a sky-high pillow fight,
the return of a chipmunk’s quick feet
announcing another spring,
the stubborn oak-branched leaves
that after autumn ends
still ride the bucking winds—
nature’s scenes were models
in clothes that pleased my eyes
each time I looked at them.
Or so I thought when young.

But now, after decades
heavy with bewildering years
of sorrow and stunning loss,
I find the beauty of nature,
though wearing the same four seasons’
wardrobes, is not a model,
but a drug dealer
I need for a fix of strength
to help me face each day.

Copyright © 2015 by Robert K. Johnson.