 After a long drive and a short walk on the Ashridge Estate I ended feeling cold and poetic. I wrote the Spring part last year but I felt the need to capture the changes that clung in the cold and crept out with the sunlight. I drove to Great Gaddeston, Little Gaddeston and Gaddeston Row - that was enough Gaddestons for me ;) Then we walked and hurried home. SEASON'S CHANGE |
Winter hardens in glittered bite;
Crisps, in sharp snaps, bladed dew;
Crisps, in sharp snaps, bladed dew;
Breathes on netted, silk-draped, bushes.
Winter does not warm to daylight’s lowered rays.
Winter rawness strains by cracks;
Pales while drifting blankets smooth;
Winter’s un-dyed skeletal mask deceives and smothers.
Spring shoots from grey ground,
Darts in coy callings: tree to tree,
Peaks on spindled fingers seeking light:
Spring does not rush its great reveal, it revels in slow-rising sap.
Spring wafts irritating clouds,
Prances to new life’s dance,
Blushes while blossoms robe:
Spring, plush with lush life, swells and over-all flows.
The day felt like one season and in the sunlight, and from the car's rose-tinted interior, it masqueraded as the other..
Don't you love how words combine with internal rhythms?
Two answers are perfectly possible ;)
