Monday, March 19, 2007

Jan'ry Wind

Maple, Willow, Pine and Oak,
Alder, Ash and Ivy;
Withered sisters clutch the sky,
Their fingers scraping dryly.
Upon the shore, the tufts of grass
That spear up through the snow
Form choruses of mournful string,
A Jan'ry wind for bow.

No singing jays, no cardinals,
No gulls to haunt the bay;
No sunlight peers through silver clouds
To light the lonely day.
On Maiden's lashes, lace of frost,
The sign of Winter's chill.
From Maiden's lips no sweet words spring.
Her form is cold and still.

Maple, Willow, Pine and Oak,
Alder, Ash and Ivy,
Mossgrown sisters clutch the sky
Their fingers scraping dryly.
Choruses of mournful strings,
A Jan'ry wind for bow,
Form at the shore, from tufts of grass
That spear up through the snow.


Blogger cinnabari said...

Overall, I like this a great deal. You're right... this is more 'formal' than your usual poetry, but it works. Well. Except... while I'm betting you're fighting for rhyme and scansion, here, these two lines:
Tawny strings together form,
A Jan'ry wind the bow

keep throwing me. I have no idea what image I'm supposed to get from context. Bow as in weapon? Bow as in ribbon/knot? I wanna say--the wind is making itself a bow through the grasses, but it's not clear from syntax.

In any case... I see a grey sky, and dead grass. I want to shiver when I read this and go back inside. And I get that weird ache/empty feeling that comes with wide, empty skies and winter quiet.

11:40 PM  
Blogger iamcoyote said...

Just lovely, Milo. Reminds me of Lake Michigan in winter.

1:42 PM  
Anonymous soul pumpkin said...

...and take heart, Milo...spring has returned...

8:56 PM  

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