Thursday, August 9, 2012

Out of Season

I am wanting winter,
spare and cold and clean--
cracking plastic splinters,
relentless, almost mean.

I am wanting winter,
all brought blunt and low--
gathering of sinners,
Incarnation's glow.

2 comments:

  1. I'm liking the (pardon the technical term) trochaic rhythm of these lines, the rhythm where the line begins with a stressed syllable!

    --and yes, I value winter for precisely the same reasons that you ostensibly do!

    It would perhaps be flattery to call this poem Dickinsonian, but in a way it's more companionable than much of Emily Dickinson. Let me jettison the critical jargon and say simply: I love this poem!

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  2. I'm very honored to receive the "critical jargon" and glad you enjoyed the poem! I'm also very glad you found it "companionable"--I love when poetry welcomes others.

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