05-10-2020, 09:29 PM
I wake to tendrils of dancing snow
wafting up in skyward offering
to canny deities that know
to fill their coffers brimming
with illness, dark and death.
I must have overslept.
But no- the light is wrong it seems.
It nearly blinds as I take in
branches white, but tipped with green
Winter’s gasp before its end
A funeral duet begins and rises from my garden
an improvised hymn intoned by wind chime and robin
Is this cruelty, sorcery or chance?
The tulips bend, repentant in prayer
for their hasty, reckless entrance
forced from interment, gasping for air
Only the daffodils seem to care
and lower their gaze in despair
The mid-day sun declares its answer,
melting conflict and all tension.
Tufts appear of bright green fur
and life begins to burgeon.
The seasons cycle, ceaseless, pre-written.
Jack Frost hurriedly recoils, finally back-bitten.
wafting up in skyward offering
to canny deities that know
to fill their coffers brimming
with illness, dark and death.
I must have overslept.
But no- the light is wrong it seems.
It nearly blinds as I take in
branches white, but tipped with green
Winter’s gasp before its end
A funeral duet begins and rises from my garden
an improvised hymn intoned by wind chime and robin
Is this cruelty, sorcery or chance?
The tulips bend, repentant in prayer
for their hasty, reckless entrance
forced from interment, gasping for air
Only the daffodils seem to care
and lower their gaze in despair
The mid-day sun declares its answer,
melting conflict and all tension.
Tufts appear of bright green fur
and life begins to burgeon.
The seasons cycle, ceaseless, pre-written.
Jack Frost hurriedly recoils, finally back-bitten.