Oddments

In search of story

Winter garden

4 Comments

Ring-a-ding-ding, little bells!
What accusing stasimon
your silent chiming tells.

Listen to the scolding of the bells!

Woeful, scrawny, rickety,
impecunious of bloom,
flaccid, fainting, sickly,
you mortified the room.

December’s brassy knell
graveyard cold
sounded for the year
and for you
graveyard old
spindly weary.

In memoriam
I intoned
preparing to bury
your quaggy bones
but —
gardener’s scruples —
turned westward
instead.

January window —
portal, shaman —
tickled your wilt
quickened your silt
and
cell
by
cell
you
rose
up
up
and crowded yourself
with new life.

Listen to the chiding of the bells!

Pearly bells!
What a din of foliage
its pluck and purple tells.

Humbled water-fetcher,
sack-cloth’d,
bowing to graceful
bobbing
fortitude,
I nod
the error of my ways.
I have learned,
oh, teacher-in-a-pot!
Life is more
than what I see.

Ring away!

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

(with apologies to Poe)

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4 thoughts on “Winter garden

  1. How I love Poe. And I can hear the bells from here. You’ve given me hope, Maureen!

  2. Hope! Yes! That thing we need in February! Glad you can hear the bells over this nasty wind.

  3. Poe should be honored. And your photo image is a treat. Bells are truly ringing their way towards an invisible Spring.

  4. Invisible indeed! It is a bitter day here, without the slightest hint of anything but winter and more winter.

    Thanks for your kind words, Shirah!

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