The sea that summer hissed
Through the poplars’ rippling green
Has ebbed now.
Leaves cold-crisped
Crick crack
Like the bleached bones of last spring’s blackbird.
His rich golden song
Still as ice,
The notes frosty pearls
Rocked in the black depths of the winter sea
By the unvanquished robins’ lullaby.
Assembling the Jigsaw of a Febrile Imagination
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Jane Dougherty Writes 
Love the ‘crick crack’ of dry or frozen leaves 😀
reflective of the season.
Reblogged this on theowlladyblog.