What of this winter madness….
Why fear now ?
A draught that autumn left us
tells us tales of sunlit
afternoons
Invite me in to warm you
Let me in your dreams
This creature
so violent
he seems
Will I see young and new ?
The freshness that scares the cold
What if I do not make it through the winter,
what if my body is too old ?
This rocking-chair deceives me
and conjures up this fire,
soft bear-skin at my feet.
But my hair blows in the wind
and my sight is obscured by the shadows
the trees cast in the icy moon.
My feet sink into cold marshland
my hands fumble for brittle bark
I try not to see the glittering eyes
‘tween the brush
the breaths manifold and hushed
By this fireplace I read,
In this rocking-chair I sleep
My feet cozy and warm.
Why did I leave my house
On the brink of winter
When the northerly winds
come to chill the bone
Refused the invitations
of friends for warm meals
and melancholic drink
Maybe an instinct as old
as the rocks
makes my legs move
Maybe I know of the ritual
to perform when time
is mine
my time is nigh
The stars look different this night
This winter
My thoughts leave my house
and my life behind
It is time to embark
on a discovery
to a land so dark
This flesh too old
can not be expected to sustain
another gust, more hail and rain.
So I lay it down
In this forest
on the moist rotten floor
and let the eyes stare
once more
at stars, moon
Release
in a last sigh
for it will all be gone
soon