Tags
Aspen Trees, frost, hoar frost, Poems, Poetry, Rime, Winter, Winter poem
The consolation of cold:
Rime on the branches,
Aspen lifting their arms
To worship the day.
21 Wednesday Feb 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
Aspen Trees, frost, hoar frost, Poems, Poetry, Rime, Winter, Winter poem
The consolation of cold:
Rime on the branches,
Aspen lifting their arms
To worship the day.
21 Wednesday Feb 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inThe aspen is clothed,
Its limbs reach toward heaven
Alight with rime and worship:
A great one has passed
At ninety nine years–
The lives that are touched
At ninety nine years–
Mine, my grandfather’s,
The time overlaps,
spreads over the landscape
So that all are touched,
All are clothed.
It is zero today,
And I wanted to write
That hell is cold–
Until I saw the aspen
Clothed in hoar frost.
All the world has become
The aspen, outlined in ice.