Woodland Scene

Why is the roof of this old shack painted. Is it a hope that something old can made new again?

Against the dark, lifeless woodland

An old shack stands.

Camouflaged against the winter greys of bark

From which it came.

It would seem invisible,

But for the azure sky that gives it form

Against a landscape, dead

And in repose.

All is old and done,

Weary of the growing and of the standing.

The once green grass, bleached white by winter,

Whispers mournfully - the ghost is given up.

Lying against the darkened breast for final comfort

At its parent’s end,

The shack belies the power of winter’s killing-breath.

The crimson roof, new-painted,

Starker than all the colours in the wood, the earth, the sky,

Declares redemption -

The old shall become new,

The mortal shall put on immortality.