To Waken An Old Lady


Old age is
A flight of small
Cheeping birds
Skimming
Bare trees
Above a snow glaze.
Gaining and failing
They are buffeted
By a dark wind-
But what?
On harsh weedstalks
The flock has rested-
The snow
Is covered with broken
Seed husks
And the wind tempered
With a shrill
Piping of plenty.


1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

To Waken An Old Lady