Today the prompt is to take an impossible statement and write a poem where it happens.
"I've cleared that bed of last year's plants . . . "
The autumn leaves lie dejected on the damp earth,
Stirring only torpidly when the wind taunts them.
Stark branches, naked on the tree that gave them birth
Defy the wind's commanding voice, that does condemn
And sentence them to death and lifeless end.
Skeletal flowers, in the summer blue and pink, that danced
Are brown now, dull, their petals paper thin.
And bracken dead and crushed, their broken stance
The wind attacks, and punishes for unnamed sin
That autumn wove and twisted into winter's friend.
But then the rains of spring cast down their softing touch
And seep, deep into the ground, below the frost
Until they reach long-slumbered roots, and much
As the gentle word does find the child that's lost,
The growth that time had ended, starts again.
No comments:
Post a Comment