Winter's Last Rasp

Glacial remnants shudder and moan,

while snow drifts sigh and slump

beneath the waning Winter sun.

Spring's warm breath mingles

with the mist of Winter's last

rasp and feeds the spirits that lie

in stasis below.

Unraveled, the gray threads of Winter

are re-spun into gold and woven

slowly through the muted

meadows and frozen fjords.

Winter lies upon his icy mantle

and closes his eyes.

He listens to the murmurs

of flowing streams and the trickled

conversation of icicles;

and ever so slowly he sleeps.

While he slumbers the world

languidly stretches and banishes the

darkness and ghosts from its realm.

Pastels give way to their brighter brethren

signifying that the soft bed of life

has once again been made.

Reviews

[R. L. Ives]

signifying that the soft bed of life
has been once again been made

What a beautiful picture this paints. By this time of winter one longs to see any signs of life in nature, having looked at bare and gray for so many months. And coincidence can be so grand...as I am reading this I hear the first singing of a robin out my door. What a glorious morning. Thank you for making it so with your words.

[icelandicblue]

I am happy my poem could be the backdrop for your delightful day. Enjoy!

[Annabelle Lee]

I love that time of year, where winter's trying to hang on and spring is squinting it's eyes open. great

[icelandicblue]

Hi Annabelle,
Thanks so much for that comment. I too love the changing of the guards.

[Brian Park]

the personification of nature is very well used in this poem, good work
particularly like the stanza beginning with "unraveled, the grey... the wording is very fluent and imaginative

[icelandicblue]

I thank you for reading.

[Creepy Swine Guy]

Oh you got me right at the core here I LOVE the transformation. Soon ... verily I say to you ... soon.

[icelandicblue]

Well if he doesn't sleep soon I plan to pour some Secanol down his throat!