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Thursday, August 12, 2010

Pure And Cold White

When snow is thick on the very waves
And the waves rise up like screaming witches
And the dead lie gray and cool in their graves
And the tailor ends his line of stitches;

When the snow covers over the windows
And drifts higher than the gabled roof,
And I can no longer watch where it bellows
Against the road, where you walked, aloof;

Then, only then, will I finally sleep
In a sleep like death, wherein I won’t dream.
So from now until Winter this watch I’ll keep
And sew another long wedding gown seam.

Trooped ranks of daisies, pure and cold white,
Tempt my mind to believe in the frost.
When a motherly breeze stirs them with light,
Pretty fingers so warm, my hope spark is lost

And its fire dies down to an ash-colored coal
And I prick my finger just to remind my blood
That my heart is still beating, and once it was full
And in Winter pure blankets of snow hide the mud.

And the diamond-clad ground any darkness will pierce.
Someday the seasons will swing ‘round their head
And smile again, with that smile so fierce,
On the one who returns, even back from the dead.

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