White Winter/Green Winter



Hexagon on hexagon.

Jagged planes, symmetric layers,

Death’s protracted season –

Fresh, crisp and pure

You wake long before sunrise –

Wind sears inside and out

All you know are two long seasons

And this one the worst.

Sun high at twenty-five degrees

What consolation distant stars?

Boil some water, hands wrapped in rags

Open the door, open the door.






Rebirth or a new death?

Face your sins afresh.

Thawing and incessant dripping

Taps out a resurrection code

Water, water everywhere

Overflowing brooks and boots

From above, all that’s seen –

An indecipherable reflection

Staring back in disbelief

The village track and river bridge

Swept away late last night

Close the door, close the door.


The Stele

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