Deep Winter - second draft


The water breaks;

A bird's wing,

Shafts and quills intact

along the shards of ice.


Too heavy to lift, I tip

the basin up

and water drains from underneath

the broken thing. 


I want to keep it intact,

Safe from warm,

Hold it in Winter aspic,

One small, fragile memory


of peace.







 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Unpolished

  The Ocean Throws up a stone, Flattish, nearly round, Found by a child, Who feels it, The rasping nick, It's nearly a heart. Salt water...