What is it might remain when love's all gone?
Some would say nothing, some say heaven, hell.
For most the dreariness of finding song
is nothing to proclaim, nor wasteland tell.
Far better to make merry narrowness
and lie down in the humour of the pine*.
At least day's lid's not screwed down yet; confess
you don't feel bad if true you don't feel fine.
A winter emptiness becomes that love
in shocking gestures of the showering trees -
those psycho chords like nails across the glaze,
our stubbornness to prove push comes to shove,
cause and effect, lex talionis*, sneeze
and be dammed, greying the best of days.
..................................
*pine - meaning a Christmas tree but also a coffin as well as pining etc
*lex talionis - law of the talon - the pitiful philosophy of 'an eye for an eye'.
YOU ARE READING
Greenclad.
PoetryIvy-jacketed, December oaks on road-borders shock their stark gestures at us now, through sun and sleet, that January will yawn at and February, propping eyelids, will desperately ignore, longing for blossom; and making do with the least of anything...
