Thursday, 4 May 2017

Old Snow

In our last years
The snow growing old
Is slow and obstinate,
Litter on the sidewalk.

  With no spring 
To clear it away

And the garbage truck
Long retired

It lies contentedly 
On the street

White winter’s
Wrapping paper.

Then late in the day 
When the sun arrives
Fresh water over hard earth
White wrinkles across the grass

Bent and lame
Through sunny breezes

Up airy steps
The flowers climb

   Wheezing then sighing
They stop halfway

   As youth goes by,
Laughter above moans.

It is autumn in spring
Grey hair amongst gold
Or for those unkind:
Weeds between roses

Out of young leaves
Arthritic petals
Touch the sky
Fading back in pain.

This is old snow,
It lives too long
To release the new gifts
Of summer growth.

It is the usual story
Louise tells a different tale

The day rising
And snow slips away 
Night falling
On an empty road.

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