The Poetry Kit MAGAZINE
POETRY PROJECT - Response to Calendar
Curled round the fire, wrapped in a blanket
fingers and toes still freezing, outside
the crisp, white frost shatters tender stems
of plants - in nature's cruel divide.
The bright sun slants through the window
catching speckled dust in its rays,
last night's snow tries hard to melt -
but turns to ice in these bitter winter days.
Distant black clouds rush on the wind,
bringing night midway to the afternoon,
then in fury, blow - whitening the ground;
lights glow orange, mocking the sun too soon.
Shivering indoors, only four days to go -
while we are warm inside, let it snow!
The garden this morning
candied with winter
or waking after
an ice age millennium
the earth unlocked
by the brushing hem
of the comeback king.
It stood empty all summer,
despite our care to provide
what the garden centre said
they liked. Nothing tempted our local birds
away from parental duties.
Today, while we waited
for the first of our children –
unemployed, homeless –
to turn up for the feast,
I sat my mother by the window
and shared her delight as we saw
attack the seed hoppers
while starlings fought over
the slab of fat
dangling from our feeder.