Grass bends

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Grass bends

beneath the tread of winter,

of stalks,

the frost,

brittle bones makes,

and fragile, feathered and furred things

huddle high and burrow deep.

Wings through ice splinters flutter,

nail and claw delve among sleeping roots,

some to find the spring,

while we,

walking on red planets,

shaping ships to sail among the stars,

let our fellows

curl in cold doorways,

frozen foetal skeletons,

carried to the dead icefields

on winter’s indifferent breath.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

2 thoughts on “Grass bends”

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