OUT OF THEIR INEVITABLE MISERY
They are a firm fraternity
The remnants of the last storm
lingering like facsimiles of fossils
in a last stand against the irascible
bullets of frozen rain
and their grey pimples of abrasion
They are no match for
the crusty rock meringue I imagine
being whipped up by the plow of
the snowbound Philomelos and
blanketing the once-exquisite
drifts of despondent Demeter
like a dutiful but misguided son
They are mini-ramparts scoffing
at Spring's impatient innuendoes
of 7:30 sunsets
I am happy to be human for a change
and illiterate as any other animal
against the implied though
inexplicitly declared dialect of
warring seasons
It would be an exercise in hurt
to inform these stolid hills
they can meet the challenge of
departing Winter's insistence
on joining them under the divine
intimation of hibernation
before it's too late
for behind the rain
the golden veins of Helios
prepare to feed the flex of
heat's pectorals
and will come to mock the
frozen rain's failed bravado
with its syringes of Spring rays
They are no match for the Sun
and for once I'm happy to be human
illiterate as every other animal
against the unspoken though
obvious dialect of
warring seasons
Written by Steven Fortune, first posted to the People's Poetry Bookshelf on 22nd April 2013.
No comments:
Post a Comment