No sooner have they dropped their leaves
than willows almost glow with yellow suede.
This cloud-bright, stilly day
picks out the shades and tints of bark and buds;
sky lifts its skirts, teasing and coy
like a sweet girl sent to veer
a kingly heart from tragedy.
Yes, yes, ‘I wish’, but sing;
and now a mellow sunlight at my back,
cloud-filtered dream, joins in with me;
the lights allow me time to type this verse;
but roads run carefree so I rubberneck
at many catkins hung so thickly by,
a little yellow spring in January.
Windless now,
they will not shake their tails at me today.
I drive on to the city and its fumes,
'improvements' that clog up its veins with rage;
and yet delight stays with me
all the way -
still smiles me as I type this page.
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
