Bitterness encroaches on this march of lighter nights,
Thaw of spring still harden’d, frost-frozen without white,
Warmer days elusive, no swallows yet in sight,
Tip to toes still tingling, hibernate without a fight.
Day: March 8, 2015
Colour Me Forty Shades
Let red be red but green be multi’d,
mosses and emeralds,
all hues evolving between,
pastures and grasses and leaves, variegated,
and buds, emergent,
all green.
Bucolic colours,
depicted in paintings,
in landscapes around me all seen,
colour my world with tones of the Irish
and forty shades
soothing, serene.
Let red be red, her blood shocks who witness,
stark, viscous, coagulated,
too thick,
Sap stirred and quickened,
photosynthetic,
chromatic reactive. Green’s it.
Elemental Daughter
She can tell, by turns, which way the world blows,
Lips to air, deep breaths, she tastes, she knows,
Lets the Kaver finger hair and loose clothes,
Mistral rushes through her channelled pores.
She nor’westers within stones long risen,
Empower’d by the buffets in between,
Dances there with deities all borne in that scene,
Feels the pressure, coriolis weaned.
She can rise from rivers, balance water,
Atomic weights, compound all they to her,
She’s the breath, the elemental daughter,
Born, released and free forever more.
Crazy sort of lady is the folk lore,
Witch upon the wind and on the moors,
Bathing in the floods of fire and aether,
Shower’d, she of air, she lives and pours
Flesh to life and soul to all around, rotating,
Twirling dervish, live unto the end,
Controls and calms, by turns, all elements about her,
Every waft of current is her friend.
Listen when she speaks through thunder’d prisms
Wrap yourself in bounty born within,
She curls around all feelings, depths and chasms,
Feel her dancing, daughter of the wind.
scottishmomus 