The sky is empty
Pale winter blue
A single bar of cloud
Hovers over the western horizon
And as I drive
The sun dips behind it
The edges of the cloud glow silver
The strong beauty almost takes me off the road
Tall, lean, feline, black eyed Winter is aprowl high-shouldered, haughty, she swirls through branches that strain to catch her bleaches an expansive sky watches for lonely bones
This night a god will sing in the storm lay her glitter cloak over all reveal a power and deadly glory to make you question your beliefs as she slithers under doors to embrace you gnaws your bones with cold takes you
Glad voices ring out in the chill air from the sledding slope As we circle unsteadily on a frozen lake, finding our feet Long new six foot wooden feet Then we begin to glide, relaxing into the flow Betrayed by speed on the first slope The ground crashes up to us We kiss hard snow several times as we ski through the forest Mainly laughing at our woes Eschewing the tracks, our (mostly) parallel woods slice into fresh powdered snow Until the next topple
I have two poems (Lilbourne and Summer Queen) in this great Anthology from Milk and Cake Press. It examines the dark, the supernatural, and the uncanny of a long, cold winter. As we move from the depths of winter toward spring, and from pandemic isolation to a more normal life, these poems may be the perfect companion. Please buy a copy now!
Lilbourne is a poem about ghosts who linger in and near Milton Lilbourne in Wiltshire, while
Summer Queen retells Rumpelstiltskin in a prehistoric setting.