The savage wolves of winter
tear at browned summer skin
rich pickings mean survival.
pine cones close
tightly
in suffocating
silence
ice needles
glisten
Dark bears of December
pace and wait cagily
to feed on an easier corpse.
chill winds play
their tune
a sombre fugue,
low and raw
collides with mountains
January jackals quarrel
and spread bleached bones
in ambivalent disarray
slim shadows lengthen
death and decay hold the
stage
the sated wolves howl
© Graham Sherwood
11/2017
No comments:
Post a Comment