The
first snow combs the sky.
Under
a cotillion weight of so many icy maidens,
branches
dip with their scores of graying juniper.
Crystalline
blooms huddle
on
the rotunda. These ladies bring nothing
but
myths of symmetry. Maybe
midweek,
sun enough will
drop
them, bring them to tears
among
the stones. May's thaw
will
wrestle the gin from the conifers.
They’ll
compose a fable
in
the slope
of
my nose.
ha. all the ice maidens weighing down the trees...really like the myths of symmetry line...great closing line, ha...telling a story in the slope of you nose...i can smell them...cool piece man..
ReplyDeleteWhat rich language and metaphors you paint the winter in.. Love to see winter as dancing ladies.. And
ReplyDeleteThese ladies bring nothing
ReplyDeletebut myths of symmetry.... so very cool... what cool lines to describe the first embassadors of winter...
mysterious closing lines; vivid imagery ~
ReplyDeletelove this part ..."They’ll compose a fable
ReplyDeletein the slope
of my nose."
Very cool. I love the "myths of symmetry."
ReplyDeleteha...your close made me smile...this whole piece is beautifully written. Love the imagery.
ReplyDeleteThe ending was awesome. Actually, the whole piece was. :)
ReplyDeleteI already feel the draw of spring in this. The elixir of gin warming my veins.
ReplyDelete