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.


  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.

  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 ~

  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.


"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats