We are between the Chaste
and the Seed Moons, between
Sap and Grass. Winter lingers
on the dark side of the road,
high in the mountains; but here
in the valley, spring touches
the liquid face of the pond, buds
on the birches. Long friends
share stories like knitted scarves,
unravelled, rewoven; nothing
lost or forgotten, nothing unused.
Bamboo needles, silver hairpins,
a hospital balcony, a death bed.
Brutal family holidays, road trips
in deep snow. We pass back
and forth between us, gold ear-
rings; apricots and grapes; what
we know and what we don't.
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1 comment:
Hey, really enjoyed this. Great juxtaposition of winter and spring imagery, starting out with the natural world metaphors and then extending into more human stuff.
One possible suggestion: maybe try it with longer lines, and without the tercets.
e.g.
We are between the Chaste and the Seed Moons, between
Sap and Grass. Winter lingers on the dark side of the road,
high in the mountains; but here in the valley,
spring touches the liquid face of the pond,
buds on the birches....
It felt to me, that with its current format, the breaks were coming a little too close together--at least in places.
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