Dogwood Winter
Ants raid the bath, wasps claim the washroom
even as the cool of winter looms.
The forsythia sings against a chorus
of green, yet the hue of winter looms.
The bunting’s a blur of vibrant blue,
off-setting winter’s gray loom.
Calves nurse in the open field, chilled
as the nip of winter looms.
Blood buds of azaleas burst forth,
even though winter looms.
The creek hums a rain-filled song
oblivious to the winter that looms.
Rosemary, thyme, and sage grow
in the sunroom, even as winter looms.
Rosemary Royston, author of Second Sight (forthcoming 2021,
Kelsay Press) and
Splitting the Soil (Finishing Line Press, 2014),
resides in the northeast Georgia mountains with her family. Her poetry and
flash fiction have been published in journals such as POEM, Split
Rock Review, Southern Poetry Review, Poetry South, KUDZU,
Literary Accents, and *82 Review. She is an Assistant Professor
of English at Young Harris College.
https://theluxuryoftrees.wordpress.com/
--
Rosemary Royston
Rosemary,
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful poem and I enjoyed reading it very much.
Nice ghazal, Rosemary--right down to your name in the final stanza! :-)
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