Heaving sighs breathe heavy into the aisles of yesterday,
A raven chokes above the bleak sky and rain plods the ground
Damp with leaves ushering under boughs less golden.
White upon white slowly ebbs back as brown monotony
Retakes its hold on innocence; again the earth whispers.
A punctuation mark of a crow streaks the leadened sky
Heavier than air, falling in droves on droves of misery.
The hills shiver in their cold canopy of frost which cracks
At water’s insistence, soon to break with idolatry of the missing:
All those ghosts of time clanging in the midnight frieze.
The blunt heads of daffodils come rashly early
Cannot sink back, claw back into some other place til
Sun arrives finally to light hard places and set black shadow.
Now, very now, a snowdrop pokes out its finger to test
And bravely comes to life.
No comments:
Post a Comment