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Winter Adorned

Contributed by screwge on Wednesday, 26th November 2008 @ 08:28:05 PM in AEST
Topic: NaturePoetry

Old man winter—for the masochist!
Today his winds screeched and hissed,
Wherein sylvan claws flayed my coach.
His eye in the moon did broach

My compunction,
Though tonight the crescent did shun
Upon the dark side my remorse.
So if he might hear me hoarse

From sorry litany,
Let winter grant me amnesty.
In autumn the full crescent yoke
Bore no shielding, fogging cloak;

The moon observant, crisp, and clear
Witnessed my crime in autumn’s drear
And sealed the sights it saw that day,
But I must think winter's view passé.

So let him listen
With newly summoned acumen
And not play coy after my repertoire.
For autumn I have gone in far:

To the season—

That this autumn I did not reap
The every pod, the every drupe,
That I had let some hang
On you, unflattering,

Without harvest,
The crops gone to waste,
That I had cast off pulpy seeds,
That fruit had gone unwrung for meads,

To bathe in water and atone,
To placate old man winter’s throne,
I tried to take the sins and rinse
Them in ablutions, and mince

The cold daily statements which emanate
From your laughing, faceless slate,
But old man winter
Permits no ice to splinter.

Copyright Â© screwge ... [ 2008-11-26 20:28:05]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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