Bacon on the Bookshelf

Savory picks for the free range reader

Winter’s Feast

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In my yard, unsteady, I’ve taken my first steps since October. Winter’s glories abound, and its desolation…

Winter’s Feast

At winter’s feast, I drink the yellow jasmine – 

Paint my lips with blood-pink bloom – 

Rub my hands with Rose of Mary;

In their rooms, dear pansies flirt and swoon.

 

At winter’s feast, I touch the veined hydrangea – 

Dress my hair with leaves of old – 

Drown in sun’s light, close my eyes tight; 

In their rooms, dear pansies smile and scream, bold. 

 

At winter’s feast, I shiver with the branches – 

Hold their bony hands in mine.
Grey becomes the sky, becomes me.

All the while mad pansies breathe the Winter air malign –
and dream of Spring.

 

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7 Comments

  1. Love this! So beautiful!

  2. Beautiful! And glad you’re rapidly on the mend. Steady as she goes…

  3. Lovely reminders that not all that is dark and dreary is without a purpose and winter will give way to spring…soon.

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