A Poem for Cold Weather by Semy Marin
Here is another installment of poetry from my sister Semy Marin. This was written during a winter in Missouri several years ago, so it is rather more wintry (in a chilly sort of way) than anything she or I are writing from our current home in Arizona. But I suspect it will reflect the weather many of my readers are living through just now!
The wind walks through the trees.
There is a sound
As though the leaves remained upon the boughs.
But no; they lie all steel-edged with the freeze,
Heavy, on the ground
And do not stir; the grasses only rouse
And quiver, faint and stiff;
No more the wind
Can do on Earth, though in the heavens all the clouds
He shreds and sends in chastened flight, as if
All mighty things would bend
Like that phantasmal and unbodied crowd
Of hills of water, lands
Of fogs and mist,
Of continents of storm. But no, the world
Of soil and of earth no threatening understands;
Tight as a great closed fist
These hills crouch silent; huddled, curled.
The wind's voice murmurs loss;
He groans, but low;
He shakes his wings and flings aside the skies.
But not one withered apple can he toss
Across the meadow.
And he winds himself about the trees, and sighs.
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