Post by mfwilkie on Feb 18, 2008 15:56:42 GMT -5
Mid-Monday morning:
new shoots of grass edge out old snow embattlements
melting under warmth urged northward from the Carolinas
and moaning the loss of yesterday's bold seasoned-chill with gasps of fog as if they were surrendering soul-suffered change
in a weather metaphor that saw surreal.
Dinner time:
not thick enough for soup clichés,
more like a film-noire mystery—
::the heroine, with bad hair hidden under a damp scarf,
reaches the all-important lamppost, and leans::
Later that night:
Cocooned. Encased. Enveloped even,
but not confined.
Four days later:
Winter laid down ten inches of statement—
Orion was lostin a haze that filtered so much
black out of night you might have thought
the moon had bled across the sky.
White was everywhere again,
so I let the poet in.
new shoots of grass edge out old snow embattlements
melting under warmth urged northward from the Carolinas
and moaning the loss of yesterday's bold seasoned-chill with gasps of fog as if they were surrendering soul-suffered change
in a weather metaphor that saw surreal.
Dinner time:
not thick enough for soup clichés,
more like a film-noire mystery—
::the heroine, with bad hair hidden under a damp scarf,
reaches the all-important lamppost, and leans::
Later that night:
Cocooned. Encased. Enveloped even,
but not confined.
Four days later:
Winter laid down ten inches of statement—
Orion was lostin a haze that filtered so much
black out of night you might have thought
the moon had bled across the sky.
White was everywhere again,
so I let the poet in.
