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Now that the
old year is fated to die,
All of Earth’s colors have fled to the sky.
Heraldry of the cold season can give
Winter’s war-weary a reason to live.
Crushed and
held down by the snow and the sleet,
Ranks of the roses must fall in retreat,
Yet where the sunset flaunts auburn and gold
Bravely in banners, the blood is made bold.
Far to the
west, where all visions depart,
Clouds give the twilight its rich purple heart.
Sinks the last jewel, as the shadows fall back;
Night slams the gauntlet down, leaden and black.
Dawn lies in
wait, as we rush towards the sun
On Earth’s geometry, riding as one
Into the Spring, where the morning will shear
Streamers for Easter, the crown of the year.
Trumpets cry
out, but we scarcely have slept,
Sure in our hearts of the promises kept
When the bright pageant that never shall fade
Vaults from the earth as it flew from the shade!
Now that the
old year is fated to die,
Searching for color, we look to the sky
From castles of cold that our Maker designs,
Ice on the river and snow on the pines.
© 2014 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author. |
