On Melting

Reivax Camlost

What falls while sleeping, speaks to me;

a grace upon that frozen ground,

a voice that dreams, what things might be—

in restlessness, and melting round

the base of a bejeweled spruce—

I'd thought, wherein were only larks.

Though seeing icemelt in the grass,

and loose, I think it's not so stark:

What's dreamt in falling, need not last, and I

can learn to love a Lark.

  • Author: Reivax Camlost (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 16th, 2019 12:43
  • Comment from author about the poem: There are plenty of metaphors for love in nature when you look for them. Perhaps the more precious ones aren't contrived, but rather speak to us as a voice within our own minds drawn from some far off place; the snow that melts in the morning, having fallen through the night, need not be so constructed as a term: Rather, it holds a voice within the heart, speaking for its own.
  • Category: Love
  • Views: 12
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