To The Departing Year

 

 

 

 

 

to the departing year

The ache of her passing

intensifies with the crow —

his dark head bent

as if he were praying

in the evergreen’s pew.

 

Light snow falls, barely enough

to blanket dry leaves

and chipped stone.

 

During long afternoons

she stirred my tea with poems

and paved the terrace with soft light.

 

I felt closer to her

than I had in previous months.

 

She made the stark briar

breathe with the scent of roses,

the train whistle glide

along forsaken rails.

 

Stimuli that drew shadows

and events from the past.

She selected wisely –

those which   let me cry,

and venerate life

in a month of bare woods

and dwindling days. Look

 

her last hour lingers

with a bird in the tree,

this white hush of air

molting — until wings

lift a penitent’s weight

and the pine trembles.

4 comments

  1. Wendy,

    The – I don’t know – “off” rhyme of “crow/pew” was alone worth the read for me. Beautifully crafted and presented as always.

    MSS

    Like

    • Hi Mark,

      Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment on this poem! I sincerely appreciate it; and was not aware really about the “off rhyme of crow/pew” but it is there and does have that rather sonic effect. So thanks, also, for bringing that to my attention, It will let me look at the poem in yet another way. A good thing to know.

      My best
      Wendy

      Like

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