“subsequent vernal”
The green stayed hidden
while the field around it
burned and seeded.
You labelled it winter,
called it a broken clock.
But look at the cortex now—
fully mapped, solid stone,
suddenly split wide
by ancient lightning
finally, bones for weight.
Now the cold makes sense:
it’s an ignition that knows,
watching a slow, wilding thaw—
not a blinded animal in the dark,
but with eyes wide open to the flame.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 25th, 2026 04:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Not everything is in plain sight my friend but buried deep
Green goes underground in the winter grass and leaves frost burned seeds dropped. The cortex is solid stone of ice. It is this cold that ignites many life forms. There is something magical about the wording of this piece that I can not put my finger on but it gets a fave
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