Poem: Fall To Winter

 Fall To Winter

 

scholar profuse of stylus, scratching in wind,

dark clouds scroll by you, tablets of shade.

such weather, such renaissances,

they baffle your earnest searchings.

you crave the past, its fountainous green,

so regal and productive, arrogant yet busy--

it was you--you, in fact,

stuffing lessons into your old, rigorous coat.

 

now, though, forelimbs to the ground, 

arthritic with translucent fingers, 

and a crown stark as no nimbus, 

you pray, 

pray and hunch under jaws of ice 

far too unkind to wood or skin.

and yet still you hum, 

hum still,

within your exoskeleton of celsius,

offering mobiles of icy gazes.

so stoic.  tinged with grizzle,

and yet still you gawk, yes still,

at the moodiness of snow,

and the way the stones, not so cemeterial after all,

maintain their deathless grins.

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