Winter Hills – Two Poems of Winter Weather

I’ve been writing poetry again recently, some themed around poisonous plants for a new project which is still very tentative and in the early stages, but also some themed around winter and snow and the shift of the season, as we had our only snow flurry this winter this morning.  Here are a couple of the latest poems for your reading pleasure!

Winter Hills

Slim girls climb the hills and

make love to the sunset once more,

storm winds removing their clothes and

the last light of day painting watercolour and salmon shimmer

over silvered skin and argent hair.

Their clothes lie, discarded on the ground and

toadstools jewel them, adornments for

the forgotten garments which

will soon become earth, or,

carried away by the wind, will become satin finery for lesser plants.

The cool air in the last dying light of day

strokes silver, pearl, spiderweb and diamond along smooth flanks,

rainbow sunset shades,

dark twig hair waving in the wind, singing,

chanting a song to the twilight.

The Language of Winter

Winter speaks a curious language,

one of exposed stone, bone and bronze,

the graceful arch of brambles and

blackthorn that pierces the sky

until it bleeds sunset across the horizon in

a torrent of red and gold.

Buzzards fly against storms,

and below, fields reflect

a thousand shades of iron and copper,

staining the land in mottled array.

Woodsmoke and rotting leaves

are the perfume of the day, and

pine, applewood, incense in the air.

Snow falls, and words

pare back even further –

silence in the cathedral woods.

Branches against the laden skies.

Bird tracks. Fox call.

Pheasant cries against the twilight.

Home.