You gave me a carved wooden amulet, which I think
must be real, because it is keeping one place warm
on my neck, as we walk along winter pathways
where the veneer of snow is already wearing thin.
We feel secret to be up so early, treading the grey grime
into our shoes, the sunlight blasting our faces with air.
Trees without leaves are dancers, their branches
slim and scabbed, in love with the sky.
This morning it’s unrequited: the sky won’t blush
for them, won’t flesh out with colours pearled like sea-glass
which would sift it softly like flour in their hands.
That’s all I notice. But you tug my head down
from the scowling sky, and make me sit crouched
on the ground, until I see the snowdrops,
clutching their way out of the stiff soil, dirt-creased,
cupping the cold back from the trees –
the way the amulet holds heat, or bells hold echoes.
Author notes
- evidently
A contest entry
- Morning Poems by Olivias Violin.
525 points, ended October 24, 2008, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - [Cheer me up (again) ] by whiterabbit..
400 points, ended October 25, 2008, 24 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I really love this. The descriptions are beautiful and so is the imagery. I enjoyed reading this and the story flowed so well. Amazing job and thanks for entering.
x -
Very well written!
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