Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Winter's Sleeping Pasture

It sleeps; nestled against the earth;
Beneath shadowy tresses
Where August breath had scorched its girth
The ghost of summer passes
The choristers of feathered throat
Have fled to kinder arches
As winter’s restless whistle strokes
Bizarrely-twisted marshes

Sweat, toil and sores the farmer bears
To plant spring’s barren fallow
But now he rests; he knows the cares
Of labor soon to follow
And on the ledger’s smudgy page
The balance of his losses
Straps to his heart the tortured faith
That succors farmer’s crosses

It sleeps, nestled against the earth
Before the grand renewal
As springtime seeps, in colored mirth
Toward the cusp of April
And every humble stalk is clad
In crystal-gilded vesture
A wild and winsome wonderland
Is winter’s sleeping pasture



  1. Wow!!!!! What an amazing photo!!!!!! and poem!!!

  2. Well Lucy..after a helping of exhaust fumes, mud and demolished cars at the derby yesterday I needed a 'stroll' through tranquility:) Thank-you for the invite and ride yesterday. It was fun. Thank-you for your kind words this morning:)

  3. Enjoyed this one Janet :) The photo you took is very beautiful ~ perfect for your poem. It's strange to look out on the stubbly fields and imagine there will be life out there come Spring. I also look forward to seeing what photo is at the top of your blog... and this one with shimmering snow on your fence is a favorite! Hope you're having a great day :)

  4. While winter here lingers, I too wait for the cusp of April. Nice ode to farmers everywhere.

  5. I Emily Dickinson had ever written at length, and not in tiny bits, this is one of the pieces she would have penned. I read it aloud, and your poem tasted good in my mouth!

    Whirling Haiku

  6. Janet, I really like where you took the wordle words. I like "The ghost of summer passes" and "the ledger's smudy page" and the "balance" there.



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