Feste's* kind of day,
children indoors, 'festering' happily
confronting the dark, guardian beast
in the long, palace throne-room,
while I'm out with this clown,
getting rained on,
listening to local backyards
busy with these shunting trains of wind:
'a husha husha' hedgerows;
thorns set to roaring -
now from a block away,
chunnering in on its tracks of avenue
blowing by, banging a bin;
yet hardly a leaf let fly -
the last on the beeches such stubborn fighters
miserly maple all backs of limp hands shaking
- a raincoat on the washing line's an angry wraith.
All so overdone,
_____________playing to the pits -
broad smiles and slapstick,
_____________telegraphed paws, guffaws
that even the somber yews
____________ blase bully-boys
quake with tears of mirth.
.....................
*Feste is the clown in Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' who sings the song 'Hey ho, the wind and the rain..'
Oh, and as I was typing this up, evil was defeated on the Wii and the Zelda credits are now panning across the TV screen.
YOU ARE READING
Wintering
PoetryIt's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections. Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards litt...
