Photo ©Lewis Collard
In the north,
ice floes sail,
compact glitter,
trailing their cold embrace
through the glass green ocean.
Glistens the sun
on frost in winter meadows,
and the waning light
in rolling tears
when no one is there.
Cold wind carries the restless leaves
gathered in the earth’s lap,
where blackbirds sort the living and the dead.
All dead, the flowers,
glowers the cloud,
shrouds their remains,
chains of frost bedeck their bed,
dead winter’s feast,
least of all the sparrows shiver.
Beautiful.
Thank you 🙂
I am especially taken with the stanza that begins ” cold wind”. Wow. What imagery.
Thank you! That last image was a flash of inspiration. I’m glad you think it works.
And how.