Spring Pity

Pity this springtime poet
Lilacs all a-flower
Green fuse burning relentless
Dawn comes early, rosy-fingered
Millenia of figured images
Clichés crowding together in 
Lazy mind bored with technical
Trickery, filled with ennui
At mention of enjambment
Monotonous metrical devices
Who, grey office waiting
Wants nothing more, nothing less
Than to spend this May day
Bower bound with his love
And all the flowers of the mountain.

Is this rheumatic ache the fire in the bones
The wise ones prophesized of old ?
Smoldering flame in a punky log
Wheezing gasp when the morning comes
Hips gone stiff sore and cold
Golden headed boy grizzled as an old dog.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae