Nature Takes Its Own

Silence of the season:

birds have fled,

insects froze,

frogs buried

themselves in mud.

Wind in bare

branches, grasses

rustling sounds.

Time of change,

seasons turning

from growth to rest

as if nature

holds its breath,

taking stock:

what will next year grow,

become again, new?

New life?

New way of life?


Poem and Photo by Duane L. Herrmann

Duane L. Herrmann, a reluctant carbon-based life-form, was surprised to find himself in 1951 on a farm in Kansas. He’s still trying to make sense of it but has grown fond of grass waving under wind, trees and moonlight. He aspires to be a hermit, but would miss his children, grandchildren and a few friends. He is known to carry baby kittens in his mouth, pet snakes, and converse with owls, but is careful not to anger them! He survived a traumatic, abusive childhood embellished with dyslexia, ADHD (both unknown at the time), cyclothymia, now, PTSD.