Why This Hurry

(it seems our normally very brief winter will be briefer this year)

 

 

Gliding through the mist

Winter alighted

On my palm-

It held in its beak

A marigold promise

Of staying long-

Its plumage not as bright-

Eyes listless

feet, in fear-

In a feeble chrysanthemum note

It crooned into my ears

About the lost bees-

Then I don’t know why

It threw all its song into the fire

And left me to a pitiless sun so soon-

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Climate Change @ Poets United