Sparks the hedge on this curmudgeon day,
Chipped off old sun’s block ~
Singing light cantatas fused with lemon joy,
Green wired to tempt the wintry air
With taper flame and labyrinthine path
Sewn to the weft of this death’s web,
When naved trees pray in naked sky.
Impudent to wink each eye,
Tinkerbell quick in surly sticks,
Is light as cuckoo’s stolen song,
Summer flitted, here reborn,
And gold to wit the maudlin twigs with spray,
And high chirped merriments of brighter day.
Rouse with flames these Lazarean dreams,
As madrigals may quill with notes the staves
Of piping choreography,
Streamed fresh as a giggling spring,
In twinkling rebuff,
Laugh giddy firework!
Whistle, sprinkled fresh to stud,
This hollow thorn of grey with brighter blood,
In these dark days to hope
Light as Pandora’s day,
Thy beacons, from this fire flake,
And strut here fizzing of the Winter’s wake.
I am a writer living in Yorkshire, England, recently retired from the teaching profession. I have always written and love poetry and have a large backlog of work. I have, through my own neglect had little published. I had four poems in a recent anthology: "Viral Verses," put together to raise funds for the NHS and am currently working with a sculptor writing poems to complement his work. I have a few collections on the go: "Norse Gods," "Box of Ochre," "Water Dancing with the Moon."