Ermine Winter, by Richard Hartwell
Monday, December 17 2012 @ 12:00 AM MST
Views: 172
Views: 172
A new poem about the beauty of the season from one of our regular contributors. Poetry Editor
Ermine Winter, by Richard Hartwell
I stumble downstairs out the door into
a velvet and ermine morning of winter
too fast too smooth for me to complain
wrapping me with a layer of hoarfrost
While virgin flakes envelope my soul
I recall a childhood not experienced
yet still remembered for all of that
by me if not by those older others
Beginning to slow down and stiffen
listening to feathered ones on a line
not yet a symphonic cacophony but
just a conflict of squawking crows
Feet turned to numb blocks of stone
fingers too gone from all memory
like nose and ears frozen cartilage
common sense fleeing from mind
No reason to be out so very long
except the real reason of beauty
wrapped in the ermine of winter
to spite body and reminiscence
Ermine Winter, by Richard Hartwell
I stumble downstairs out the door into
a velvet and ermine morning of winter
too fast too smooth for me to complain
wrapping me with a layer of hoarfrost
While virgin flakes envelope my soul
I recall a childhood not experienced
yet still remembered for all of that
by me if not by those older others
Beginning to slow down and stiffen
listening to feathered ones on a line
not yet a symphonic cacophony but
just a conflict of squawking crows
Feet turned to numb blocks of stone
fingers too gone from all memory
like nose and ears frozen cartilage
common sense fleeing from mind
No reason to be out so very long
except the real reason of beauty
wrapped in the ermine of winter
to spite body and reminiscence