Poem for a December Morning

A beautiful morning on December 1st.  The sun rose in the east much as expected.  Diadems of frost shimmered atop the spare stalks of winter grass. Was it a slug on its last prison walk that had drawn the dazzling paisley pattern on the sidewalk before me?  A troop of turkeys gathered and dispersed as I advanced. And for no good reason I thought about William Carlos Williams and composed this little poem.

The news that may be found in poems only

Faintly resembles the silence broadcast daily

By the blade of grass and ear of corn

So you may peruse some verse 

If you wish to be informed

By second hand whispers 

But only wordless in the presence

Of nature can you hope 

To be truly transformed

Photo courtesy of DeviantArt