Timed.
Winter's knife now lying buried
in burgeoning earth
means ice retreats as birdless
branch swells leafed and ready.
Sodden ground tires of trying
to create new movement
while soil ferments in mud pools
and underness struggles to dry.
Music of life unsettles the breast
of un-resting nature
for now timed faces express daily
need for change to greener dress.
Next-season push ever battles
as yellow trumpets attempt
cold openings thus winter relents
so Spring can begin her floral task.
- Author: Fay Slimm. ( Offline)
- Published: February 1st, 2021 03:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
- Users favorite of this poem: Jerry Reynolds
Comments7
Oooooh Fay, I wondered where you were taking us when 2nd stanza got down and dirty.
Your poetic crocus of delight in harshness of winter encourages a look beyond in anticipation of the realisation of your final line here.
Good write Fay.
what wonderful words you have left so strategically here .. to pave the way for my favourite season ... that of Spring .. or Prolet as they say in Bulgaria ....
'Sodden ground tires of trying
to create new movement
while soil ferments in mud pools
and underness struggles to dry'...
we must strive to remember
that, what we today selfishly/lazily depict as dotage, were part
of a generationally 'vibrant' ray of hope
titled: 'swinging sixties',
and as the 'sodden ground tires'
so have 'some' of them, maybe a window to understanding the bitterness
that twists 'Some' of their blinkered actions
and a nod to ourselves
of the future that awaits,
if we don't learn
to stop investing so much
of ourselves in those hopeful
'Spring's' our futures 'must' yield,
sometimes we just have to endure
our long Winter's
and find strength - enough
to still remain grateful
for each sipped breath
of our ephemeral lives...
a wonderful depiction of the gritty practicalities with our cyclical patterns of life dear Fay, forgive my lengthy scribbled reply
Great words taking us into spring.
Beautiful Fay.
Beautiful words as ever Fay, I have some of those 'yellow trumpets' in my garden already.
Andy
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.