Thoughts on Another Spring (After Tu Fu) It’s April. Everything is reborn, but nature is against me. Wherever I look, I feel scorn. Flowers hang their heads. Birds scream at me. Squirrels scatter, as if they wish I were dead. Alone, I drink wine. It’s natural to grow old, but on this spring night, it seems like a crime. But from the lake, I have to laugh, hearing the mocking cry of an unseen loon.
George Freek‘s poetry has appeared in numerous Journals and Reviews. His poem “Written At Blue Lake” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.