Winter poetry

The bleak, winter months are no barrier to the imagination; sometimes the icy beauty can be a wonderful inspiration

by Harry Cochrane & Rinna Keefe

Friday November 29 2013, 12:54pm

Matins

And only now can the sun replace
the darkness and regain things one lost paradise at a time, including

the moment when some kind of silence breaks on a lap of fruitless birdsong and a snapping rivulet of frost.

- Harry Cochrane

______________________________

It’s one a.m., and lights are going out
With ordered flicker, like words I want to say;
Doors locked against the drunken, ageing day, Certain warm feelings tucked up in bed with doubt. The bells chime softly in to scatter out my thoughts Like birds at dusk, who flee to separate nests,
But when the dawn comes calling for its guests
They sing in unison: alarms and news reports.
Their voices cold against my silent cheek,
Their wings a harsh fumble against the sleeping wind, Phrases that their roosting feet had firmly pinned Once more in disorder: a gale, a paper streak Outshone by on-off lights and dozy morning sun; My dreams turned out of bed before they had begun.

-Rinna Keefe

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