Ars Pathetica

A Page on which to share my humble attempts to write poetry.

After the Ice Storm
1/4/2021 – David Hirst
Morning light falls on ice and snow.
Tempered by fog, the wan sun climbs
the dome of the sky, and fog lifts,
leaving frost in slender fingers
from each ice and snow covered branch.
Alf and I walk aware of gloom and glory in silver silence.
Trees bow in deference to weather.
The boughs sigh and creak, their burdens
crashing to earth in sharp sparkles.
Where, earlier, I had cleared a path
a branch with more than my thigh’s girth
has fallen, and its drop to earth
has obliterated my work
and left me breathless and awestruck,
that hours before I worked beneath
the glimmering weight of ice and snow.

12/16/2020 David Hirst

Sing a song to Cybele.
Wed to time, and yet timeless.
Her chariot drawn by lions,
who lovers were, but now chained,
their wanton passion captured
in pursuit of golden fruit.

Mother of mountains and gods,
Kubeyela, you strengthen walls
and harness nature’s wildest
beasts and birds to do your will.
Let us dance around you, queen
of the wild in wildest dreams.

Created by david. Last Modification: Sunday 10 of January, 2021 17:33:58 EST by david.