Nothing that has meaning is easy.
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
I've been pondering this poem off and on for quite some time now. At first, it seemed so simple, yet now it seems so complex. I'm not even sure why I find it so appealing, but I do.
Still trying to have confidence in the meaning, but nothing that has meaning is easy.
Your thoughts? (Keep 'em coming.)