Friday, November 21, 2014

Winter Moth



Winter Moth

A deranged sky, late November

Raindrops glisten the limbs of trees

Snow, the impossible dream

Archives of winter under my skin.

Let's stay in tonight

Lay back the quilt, olives

A glass of cold beer


Let old leaves tell the story

They know the truth

What ripens late, what

A hurdle the change

From brown to white


What a hurdle the change 

From brown to white, wingless

Warm winter, a newly-splendored thing.