Ice spikes drip, at torture pace;
Pine-clumps plunge from upper place.
Minefield yard of scrap and scree;
More flurries on the way I see.
Mounds of snow rock-hard with ice,
Will not be moved, for trying—twice,
Porch is heaped with husks of seed;
Here nature's hungry came to feed.
Rusty vines of leaf entangle;
Redbud's rangy fingers dangle.
Limp limbs droop where once they bore
Flakes, water-logged, that lag no more.
Frozen fringes, silent creep;
Behind the bushes March hares sleep.
The corvine crew morosely caws,
As winter hedges, hems and haws.
Kat Mortensen
© 2010
all rights reserved
all rights reserved
Thank you for sharing! I really enjoyed the following lines, especially the rhyme.
ReplyDelete"Rusty vines of leaf entangle;
Redbud's rangy fingers dangle."
Thanks, Aaron! I like to work with rhyme and classical forms, but am also known to write free and blank verse. I guess it depends on which way "the fiddle" is tuned.
ReplyDeleteKat
I like this very much. Wonderful imagery and playful language.
ReplyDeleteHi Jacqueline: Thanks for stopping by!
ReplyDelete