Wednesday, October 19, 2016

A Winter Charm


A Winter Charm



The wind is hoarse
with words of the north.
Mother of columbine,
green twist of turpentine
over the ice,


lace scratch of voles
cabling the snow,
wild-knitted life on needles of bone;
a whole that eats parts,

a breathing of graves, 
a wide-open door

and under the hellebore,
your gold heart.



~October 2016









(Yes, I'm back, because the words won't go away.)


Image: Lenten Rose Hellebore hybrid (Helleborus orientalis) 'Blue Metallic Lady' 
via Pinterest. Fair use.

5 comments:

  1. This is a little softer than your usual, though it still has a sharpness and an intimation of the temporary and uncertain nature of life. It's wonderful and also does my stony heart good to see you writing, dear BFF and bar raiser.

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  2. 1, welcome back, and B, no they won't, and iii, the 'cabling the snow' line is a metonymy for the piece as a whole: a thread linking each crisp image to the next until your surprising and gentle close. a poem to savor ~

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  3. Death is the most fragrant and compelling flower of all--congrats on finding the bouquet after formally casketing this blog -- and finding gold inside them thar unfurled turpentine mists. So fine. So good to see you back, Hedge.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg