Winter Prologue
A tremor of winter
heaving from the mountainside,
pushing eel fingers along the valley.
Skies smoking their shroud to grey.
Water moves, darkening. Trees downing
their ornaments. Bolets blackening
at the feet of great oaks, melding
with leaves heavying together, holding
the last liquid, a preface
to the rivers’ thickening.
All yellows and reds driven deep
into peat soft earth to sleep.
A buzzard, sky shark, sea-less,
lowers to the fields - stillness,
a quiet presence, layering the air.
Silence, the bridge tendered by autumn.
All wild things going to ground.
A season drawing down its brood -
shedding itself of all the year’s colour,
emitting a black echo
ahead of its soft white song.
Copyright 2009 Lisa Storm-Olsen
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