A Poem Veering Off Into A Strange Metaphor
. . . barely October and already a blizzard in the upper plains
Cold and crisp . . . how clichés are always true -
Hundreds of tiny petals of brown hydrangea
Breaking off almost audibly in the wind rising
Ahead of the storm, the dry click and clatter
Of pine needles skittering across dead grass,
The voice of one wren clipped off in mid-song,
Winter beginning to stutter an old story: dark
Clouds ominous as a doomed ship, snapping
Sails filling with driven snow in the Dakotas,
Thunder of timbers slammed by sea swells,
A faint glimmer of sun in the eastern oaks
Like Ahab's gold coin nailed to the mainmast.
The great white season sounding on the horizon.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2013-10-06 at 16:55
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