Flow of the melting snow,
the broken water of
Nature’s womb,
before the arrival of spring,
one of her many memories.
Stream knows the footprints within,
the winter hunters’ scent on the
rock, his cigaret butt wedged
between the stones, she mimics
the hunters’ voices.
Doe he’d let go rests by the shrub,
expects to give birth soon, The
stream knows the footprints
within, the reticent keeper of
the story they left behind.
©by Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 
I really like this poem
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for like. 😊
LikeLike
Nature’s womb to pregnant doe – a delightful composition
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Superb poem. Broken water of nature’s womb “awesome
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much.
LikeLike
A lovely and thoughtful poem. Spring is the season of rebirth. With each passing year, memories accumulate. With every dawn, the new day reminds us of yesterday. A trailblazer looks for signs in a natural environment to infer what may have happened there. It’s almost as if nature knows something that he can know and is willing to share with him. Nature also provides signs to tell us what to expect. There is an intelligible correspondence between nature and all living organisms.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes it’s true. 😊 Thank you so much for the comment.
LikeLike