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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 18, 2005
SEEKING SPRING 2 by ~meic2
A delightful extended metaphor constitutes the root and bough of this poem.
Assonant whispers rustle its leaf-lines of lavish imagery. Nourishing it is a vibrantly conveyed message that one should always try and take to heart.
A delightful extended metaphor constitutes the root and bough of this poem.
Assonant whispers rustle its leaf-lines of lavish imagery. Nourishing it is a vibrantly conveyed message that one should always try and take to heart.
Featured by ndifference
Suggested by darkcrescendo
Literature Text
SEEKING SPRING
I am the tree-in-winter man
bough bent with wintry woes
seeking spring.
Inside, below the gnarled and ravelled rind,
inscribed by glacial ink in cruel seasons,
exigencies and crises lie curled
concentrically in seized circles
from heartwood to the bark.
Inside, again, sap congealed and gelid
trapped static in harsh-hardened tracheids,
sits still pooled and sorrow chilled
in serried cellular ranks
from yesterday’s roots to tomorrow’s twig.
Yes, I am the tree-in-winter man
waiting for spring’s demulcent peach-pink
breath to melt and liquefy
from frigid core to icebound bole
and tempt the sap to surge and rise.
And then these soft green buds
I harboured in the long dark days
will plump and swell;
and blossoms white as snow
will ecstatically burst the knotted bark
to be strewn and scattered on the ground
finding spring.
I am the tree-in-winter man
bough bent with wintry woes
seeking spring.
Inside, below the gnarled and ravelled rind,
inscribed by glacial ink in cruel seasons,
exigencies and crises lie curled
concentrically in seized circles
from heartwood to the bark.
Inside, again, sap congealed and gelid
trapped static in harsh-hardened tracheids,
sits still pooled and sorrow chilled
in serried cellular ranks
from yesterday’s roots to tomorrow’s twig.
Yes, I am the tree-in-winter man
waiting for spring’s demulcent peach-pink
breath to melt and liquefy
from frigid core to icebound bole
and tempt the sap to surge and rise.
And then these soft green buds
I harboured in the long dark days
will plump and swell;
and blossoms white as snow
will ecstatically burst the knotted bark
to be strewn and scattered on the ground
finding spring.
Suggested Collections
A touch of self-pity. Ah well!
© 2005 - 2024 meic2
Comments28
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What a beautiful poem to reread after a few years. It just goes to show it's timelessness.