Greenclad.

Sunmelt

Sunmelt

Yesterday's blue skies were cruel-cold;
they held us freezing through a day aflame.

Kitchen: on my bright blinds loom feathered shades -
appreciate a little feeding.

Today is sun-melt:
wooden table's sodden deep
and algae-greening.

On a dry cagoule* I sit 
in thick fleece and Russian hat,
so overdressed in this dead calm,
(in local honesty my throat's well-sore)
to state my status:-

I am reading reams of sunlight;
on my eyelids: eidolons, mandalas, glyphs,
imagined summer landscapes
under dusk-red skies,
touched with the tenderest warmth
of a winter sun so bristling-fierce
so blinding-quick to illumine -
yet only spirit-burn as in that Orkney tomb.

Breathe crisp-fresh air in
and steam out mist as faint
as a fair cirrus haze.

Oh, I've trialed my hand at darks
this scrappy interim 'tween-festival;
but you and I would rather let light flood
where cheeping sparrows fill the ear again
forgetting we inhere within a trafficked ring
of heavy worker's long and weary roads.

Oh, you and I would rather catch the wren-flit
in and out the hedge so low and deft
and weigh the well-knit dark of blackbird's lurk,
his peck at yet just-rotting apple bits
or lazier dissolve in light again
and hear those coward pigeons flapping near
the replenished feeder.
                                          No. They'll sit me out.

Let them. They've all day:- fat-balls to fat-balls;
and suffer little sparrows to run to seed.  ;)

Re-freeze

But later out at seven I scrape the screen
and wait a minute while the vision clears.
No doubting winter: Holly reigns supreme;
acorns enfold their little oaken dream.
Their mothers, ivy-clad, are in arrears -
such striking gestures, fractal-Gothic, mean
more in mist and darkness - loom headlit fears.

..................

*For those who don't know: it's a kind of raincoat..