The first flurry brought with
it the purest of snow,
and the wind fell and there
was comfort
in the stillness of
silence. And we breathed.
(Oh how we breathed and loved
that first breath.)
Then fall after fall swirled
round our loose feet
‘til our imprints lay hidden
as we blackened the earth.
(There is treachery underfoot, it deep and
firm-rooted.)
The bantams stay in their
coop, rarely venture their run.
Outside it is too cold for
comfort and huddle they do,
claws clasped round their
roost. The feeder is full
and the nest box lays empty
as eggs lie unlaid and future is lost.
You are cold; there is ice in
your veins.
I effort a warm glow but can’t
undo what is done.
You whisper in echoes and shout
in your warnings
as we gorge in our feeders
‘til the feeders lay empty
and then lost and defeated,
you are gone you are gone
you are gone.
And there is nothing left bar
this strange comfort of cold
as it numbs up our veins and
freezes our dull minds…
and we are gone we are gone
we are gone
Anna :o]
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Gpmg
16 comments:
eggs lie unlaid and the future is lost.. so bleak and dire... in that swirling cold. Nicely done!
I am reading this on a summer's afternoon in the southern part of the world, but I cannot say how strongly your words resonate with me - the cold without and within. This is a poem with so much unspoken feeling.
Haunting
I agree the end feels haunting in the echo.
First. I love the first really cold breath. Like it scours the lungs. And aches a bit but feels good too.
All i can do is be warm but i cant undo what has been done. Truth.
I really enjoyed the chill of this poem, Anna, especially the first flurry, and the asides in parentheses - that first breath and the firm-rooted treachery underfoot! Ans the last three lines made me shiver.
My goodness this is potent! I like the way you describe treachery which is underfoot.
This part of winter is the part when you can only dig yourself into the pillow and survive... you describe it so well, and the image works so well along.
The inner cold is the most chilling kind of all. Brilliant writing Anna!
The echoes have the feeling of a cold winter wind as it howls outside the door. The chill is coming from inside the home though.
Wow Anna. This poem is one of your best. You describe the bantams so well. And the refrain at the end...cold...yes, exactly.
"The feeder is full
and the nest box lays empty as eggs lie unlaid and future is lost."
This is so desolate. These jum jump out dlapping sadness
Much💖
That first breath, at the end of the fist stanza, lingers... It followed me around all the way to the end, singing of the cold, yes, but also of how much that first breath was loved.
You are cold . there is ice in your veins. Warmth thermically and personally is preferable to cold anytime anywhere methinks.
As the old song goes, "baby it's cold out there ..." And boy do we discover how cold here. The mind of freezing channels darkly here, the desolation, the hopelessness, like a heart at its worst hour. It's a worthy and important tour -- as Rilke said when refusing psychoanalysis -- if you exorcise my devils you banish too my angels ...
What a beautiful write. You touched my heart. The echos, were like heart beats.
This poem is both beautiful and chilling
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