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Musing in A Winter of Content
Where I stand there is still liquid amber on the floor
betraying spills stored in sweet summer’s store!
How low his light and latter shadows strobe
In shafts of fire across the sunlit plain
And Winter Solstice creeps a glorious robe
Whilst shades of even here all day remain;
Now all nature’s sunk in damp and chill
And creeping ivy ceases wandering;
All coveys clad are dun but here, a rill
Is shining gems where I am wondering;
Lives the velvet moss: black emerald art!
Snow-berry pink decors their tumbling banks;
Above, concealed, year’s vesper! Winter’s Lark
Below, the spittle fungus bursts its ranks!
See threaded silks trapezed across a span
Spider-sailors tack their silver lines
Their bate-less traps to trick, as breezes fan,
Those latter flights of gnat at frugal time;
Terminal stem of hazel bullet-bud,
Still saps are sunk, skeletals aping death!
And thinnest lines of weavers gossamer
Are trembling in a draft of beaded breath!
One falls upon the glass I write upon
And shatters into rainbow glitter there…
Winter seems to hold a world all gone
And to the sighted blind this earth is bare!
Whilst flocks of winglets spangle in the breeze
Field-faring sallies pass through veils of mist…
Sartorial magpie sporting on their spree
Shout, “ fie to one! and fie to all of this!
Now mirrored sunset lingers in a pool
With tinctured fire against a silhouette;
The sun’s so low in temperate so cool!
The waters squall but oh so delicate.