Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Time Out

Another of those ancient college-days poems lately unearthed in moldering drawer.  Traces of high school project to study G.M. Hopkins. Retouched a little. Needs work.


Birdsung blooming
   with flowers and love
   and groundhogs and grasses.
Mudstained snows
   melt and slough
   the tears of hope.
Colors burst,
   fresh-snapped, pure,
   promises proposed.
Spring (like love)
   is open.

Sunbright laughing and leaping
Stretching wide her arms,  she
Summer grows, a promise kept.
   Streams chuckle full,
   Trees stretch tall,
   Wingstretched bridds take flight.
With tears of joy,
   the unbound wind blusters
   cross fields and furrows
   and hums down cold tall
   concrete caverns.
So (like love)
   is summer free.

Leaf-rustled, silence cloaks:
The birds are soft
   and ready to
Children gaze in wistful reminisce
   through dustreaked windowpane
   while teachers
Windsong in scarlet woods
   lilts no promises,
   but broods in crustling quiet
   and remembers.
Tears that fall
   fall for the past
Autumn (like love)
   is wistful.

When snow enshrouds
   the windshorn trees,
Close, cold stars
   behold the world
   with dispassioned gaze.
The air is clear of song and hope.
   Winter must be night:
A time of solitude
   to watch the stars
   wheel the years
   without censure
   without regret.
Speak only now in whispers
   and never cry.
All tears are ice,
   and winter must be brave.

©2013 Michael F. Flynn

1 comment:

  1. Happy New Year, TOF!
    "You have showed your people hard things--you have made us to drink the wine of astonishment."


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