First Snow

  

Behind The Barrier

When you've been in a certain place, for a certain amount of time, even the most obscure of sights seem relatively normal.  When I first arrived here my eyes struggled to believe the sights that flashed before them.  The hunched figures in the forest plucking mushrooms, the backdrop of my daily vision reminiscent of a fairy tale woodland.  Horses and carts substituted for blacked out Bentleys and flags on aerials indicating that King Putin of Rublevskoe Zhukovka's kingdom is in the vicinity.  I walk alongside Ferrari's and eat caviar sandwiches. I pass a lady fresh from cosmetic surgery enveloped in mink walking her pooch, her face still encased in bandages.  Dubbed "The Beverly Hills of Moscow", it is easy to draw such comparisons.  Though unlike its U.S counterpart, this community of surrealism is tucked away deep in the forest.  Barriers prohibit an outsiders glare into this realm of intrigue and mystery.

Cloudburst

Slumber stirred by the pelted windowpane

it jolts her awake.

Wide eyes search the sealed darkness,

quickly soothed again.

Let it rain, Let it pour.

Let it wash over.

She rises to face the unchanged picture

though flashed by daylight.

The stained and speckled glass,

trickled clarity punchers through.

Let it rain, Let it pour.

Let it wash over.

The air is crisp and moist.

It rests on her dampened skin

Exposed, uncovered and cleansed

by natures gentle caress.

Let it rain, Let it pour.

Let it wash over.

Without a shield of protection

she lifts her gaping hood.

Her woolen coat is saturated.

Blinkering, she squints to avoid the lashings.

Let it rain, Let it pour.

Let it wash over.

?

Talk, chatter, conversation

debate, argument, altercation

interaction, expression, communication.

Paragraphs, sentences, chains of words

joining of a couple.  Or even a solitary one uttered.

Understanding, clarity snatched away.

She nods and smiles and gestures okay. 

Where?

She sits here in this unfamiliar place

far flung, widespread

the vast landscape sprawling.

Desolate wooden structures

dot through the woodlands blind

Abandoned tricycles,

Wendy house doors left open. 

Why did everyone leave in a hurry?

Fled.  The children aren't out to play today.

Perhaps tomorrow,

when the sun will poke through the sheltering peaks.

The squirrels will come to collect their nuts

not hide away in the bowels of the forest.

Perhaps she will see a smiling face,

or something that resembles.