A Flower of January

There once bloomed a flower, pale upon a Winter’s eve. Naught but moon it asked for, it’s green leaves grey against such light. For an hour, none know when, open and fragrant upon chilly winds. Near that waterfall that still goes. Near the rocks that splash that icy flow. There but once, and nevermore. A thousand years and none would see it ever. Fragile, silken, faint. There and gone again, vanished upon the dawn’s first breath. Continue reading A Flower of January

Always Morrow

Come what dust. Rest there at the end of yesterday, upon roses and cold stone. End then that Lord of Verdigris and Rust. Dented helm, battered mail, sword that will nevermore be hefted. Let him lie as the road goes on. Through what ill, dark woods, past what frosted moor. There beyond alabaster cliffs. Another realm, another sea, one more shore, one more tide, one last ship. Come what may, in that always morrow. A golden torch that signals dawn, over the heathers and rolling green. Across there, and furthermore, and never look back at what dust had settled the … Continue reading Always Morrow

Monday

That sledge of morn. Falls, the day anew, toil, sweat, and the hours yet to come. Early light and lanterns have all gone out. Fall upon mud and field, harvest, and the night comes far too soon. Cold, bitter, wind, less mirth, less the wonder. Sky naught but some gazeless lament. Turn back to earth and soil. Turn, and the sun to beat upon every back and neck within its stare. Continue reading Monday