A Winter Tale.

Rouge-chested Robin,

his song a tonic,

sweeps on ice threaded
snails,

mummified grasshoppers
encased

in frozen vaults.

Terrified toads shuffle,

imprisoned by icicles.

Impatient Snowman limbo
wonders, awaits

children’s palmed pat and
mould.

Each crystal in his being
darned perfection,

synthesized, crafted by Boreas.*

Muffled, silent breezes
freeze…

Morph to blizzard bullies,

waltzing, zig-zag flakes
sown

into jigsawed dreams

above aging acorns of
Autumn.

Lime grasses poke iced
crust

as yellow Crocus flash sherbet-lemon,

firework fountains.

Winter sun soaked Violas
blue hues

melt to liquid sapphire
splashes.

Scarlet berries, here!
There!

Squashed to sludge by
sprite-like beings,

sipping lychee flavoured
liquor.

Polar, Polo Mint bear, his
cheeks papier-mache grey,

chin…iceberg blue,

obsidian nose, sharp as a
glass arrow,

saffron tongue licks
glazed popsicles,

dipped in orange-squash.

Autumn’s empty room
powdered with ghostly-strange snow.

Twigged pendants coated
with sprawling Arctic sleet.

I taste copper from
ice-boxed clouds

as silent icicles are
honoured by a silver orbed moon…

It’s aluminium frame
ripples Angel fire…

Our imagination thrives on
pearled wings.

 Boreas…..Greek God of Winter.  *

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

​Photo. 2007. Forest of Matra, Hungary by Susulyka.