I've been hearing of a cruel autumn on the north, as it has been here before on the south too.
The creativity in me, or the growing in the blog -the ability to link minimal interesting ideas has been going from understandable to obscure, then to none, as the winter in the north is freezing nature.
So I'm caught in a frozen flowering; while the sun of springtime is burning like if it was summer here at town. Too many worries, may be.
Spring stars glitter in the freezing sky,
Trees on watch are armoured with frost.
In the dark tarn of a mirror a face appears.
Time is moving through displacements.
Hungrily the blind earthworm burrows
Deeper into its night. Surely
Heaven must ache with all its vacancies.
A dog’s howl is thrown up like a rope-trick.
It is an hour for prayer without words.
James Phillip McAuley, "Winter morning".
2 comments:
Reporting: one reader you won't drive away, no matter what you try. Most sorry, sir! But the block will pass, we are sure, and many thanks for the bravery to keep on, all to not leave us in silence.
I hope your worries may soon be less.
The frosty flower's colors were beautiful, in the way winter is to me on the first day the snow falls in the woods. Post made the coming cold seem less lonesome.
C
Oh, bravery! My beloved Nemesis! :-P
I'll take your hope as a promise. ;-)
You are very welcome for being there, and I'm glad that you like it somehow.
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