Monday, April 24, 2017

Winter Stars


Winter Stars


April is the month of trials
and executions.
The white clematis
sails her ivory suns but

it's still a winter sea;
grass greens, chittery birds
coddle imperative eggs
high in the chartreuse oak-buds,

yet the sky
has winter stars.
 
April twirls a fever in his
adolescent dance
too soon among the trying
high depressions;

I'm still dressed
in winter constellations
turning to disappear
around the corner of the world.

I'm big with clouds
and pushing snow,
 
an arctic wind winding down,
a whitened hawk with neither mouse
nor berry, a starveling pecking
raisins from a century's hard summers.   

April lullabies believing buds with
brassy heat before a sneaking frost,
before he blows the old leaf off,
used up and shattering on an iron storm, 

to fly, to fall, to rot out on the traitor earth 
another's passing July life.




~April 2017












Image: Clematis henryii, ©joyannjones 2015

7 comments:

  1. Gorgeous, Hedge, if nipped at every corner with the frostbite of winter suns. Does thawing become more difficult every year? (Writing too; cold silences pervade). Still, the bouquet here is cherished, even if so soon undone. Best.

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  2. A little cool snap and look what you come up with! I feel very badly for the hawk and want to give it something. As always, you create a world that is both familiar and somehow fantastic, despite that familiarity in the particulars.

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  3. "April twirls a fever" --it was never my favorite month when I lived up north, the thawing, the mud, all that almost obscene life bursting out of death, something feverish and sickening about it. Only when spring was in full swing could I appreciate it. Great poem.

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  4. And so it goes *from year to year). And still... Well done.

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  5. can't help but think of Arkansas and the bloom of state-sanctioned killings, and how whatever "our" justifications are, it boils down to who has the trigger.

    meanwhile, this brings an air of appropriate melancholy to a spring day. I hope your visit with your son is good - and while I always value your visits, there is never a need to comment - analog life always takes precedence. ~

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  6. I especially love "yet the sky has winter stars".

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  7. I must read your poems to my plants, to explain why they can't go outside yet (as they often do, by this time of year). Like nature, April is volatile, a player of games--beautiful (and devastating) games.

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