Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Winter Sonnet of the Summer-heart

Blow then, oh mistral of the barren deep
Torment the frozen landscape with your wrath
And seal the womb where summer lilies sleep
‘Neath echoes of a dusty, garden path
Splay on the earth your frigid spite and scorn
Well, well you know that you cannot allay
The overtures of spring-tides swelling morn
Where songbirds herald the dawning of the day
The quill cannot dispense a warmer breeze
Or paint the dainty danseuse on the snow
As you employ cold winter’s maladies
Where hellions of January blow
But we cling to the proof of centuries
Soon you must go where all your kindred go


Blow then, for numbered are your numbing brawls
The purple pansy and the daffodil
Will soon reply to Mother Nature’s calls
Brushing your grudges from the ridge and rill
For April, with a guiltless damsel’s smile
Will kiss the brooding bluster from your mouth
As you relinquish to her gentle guile
Your tempest for the zephyr of the south
The mellow-yellow noon of lustrous June
The emerald rhapsody of middle-May
The aura of April’s first ardent swoon
Gleams like a rainbow on your frosted fray
Before the lure of cerulean croon
Will melt your brusque and bully scowl away


Blow then, oh merchant of ice-gilded glee
Harassing ocher hills in hoary rage
Screaming in sleet-spiked mutinous melee
Shivering cold, across earth's glacial stage
For all your predecessors testify
That soon the hour of your squall is spent
And soon the frozen fury in your eye
Will soften, slowly soften and relent
To the fair maiden with the lingering glance
And when she reaches for your waning will
You rush toward her begging for a dance
The trellis, heavy with mid-winter chill
Will  bear green buds burgeoning with romance
Where honey-bees return to drink their fill

© Janet Martin


Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique