Winter Solstice - 21st December 2013
The
eyelids of the elder year have drooped and closed
as it
slowly sank into inexorable and welcome slumber.
Now there’s
a calming softness in the half-light of the new day.
On the
surface of the lane the frostiness of dawn
reflects
the shyly-peeping sun,
like
tarnished silver fused in a mackerel-skin sky
where still
lurks the shadow
of the
half-spent moon.
The
sycamore by the farmhouse is oblivious to errant rooks
discussing
weighty matters,
and from
which a loud triumvirate departs
to issue
stern decrees.
On an
ancient oak, noted for its breadth of years,
orange
leaves still cling tenaciously to sapless branches
before
they join the sour cowl that shelters seeds of life,
fully-filled,
like the whole earth,
with
the promise of rebirth.
1 comment:
lovely photos and words, specially your description of the rooks!
Happy Christmas
Post a Comment