Days diminish, nights grow cold
as consummation takes the trees,
we wander deep in blood and gold
that yesterday was uncontrolled
profusion of ascendancies.
Days diminish, nights grow cold
and now the brittle wind unrolls
a tapestry of ecstasies
we wander, deep in blood and gold.
Darling, we are growing old
for casual antitheses:
days diminish, nights grow cold,
the gentle pastures once we strolled
forget us when the rivers freeze.
We wander deep in blood and gold,
with ancient chapters to unfold
of winter’s snug felicities;
days diminish, nights grow cold,
we wander deep in blood and gold.
4 comments:
It is always summer in our hearts, sometimes we just forget it is there.
Another lovely one, John, thank you.
A beautiful villanelle, J. They're quite hard to get right... how long did it take you and did the refrain lines come before the poem?
If it's any consolation, spring is rising here.
Beautiful poem, again.
And the older we get, Minx, the more we forget.
It's been hanging around unfinished a few years, Cailleach, and the refrains were the problem. Finally I just pulled the whole thing apart and took a fresh stab at it. I'm still not quite sure about it...
It is a consolation, Abs. As long as we know that somewhere people are running naked through tall grass, we can take anything. Enjoy.
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