The weight of winter's wait.
December arrives coughing.
A bronchial shadow shrouds
its celebratory air. How long
before this flinty fog lifts,
before that visage, delicate
and keen, is seen, wearing
the smile of spring? The pool
of waiting lengthens even as
daylight does, speck by glinting
speck. The face surfaces, like
dandelions always do, in spite of.
Like April's moody sunshine,
it plays hide and seek for a while
but ultimately sustains. With
summer’s breezy magnanimity.
Living in the south these many years I have forgotten both winter and spring. But this April I have discovered ridiculously flowerful trees of April... copperpods heading the list! But back to your poem it really does lift the weight of waiting!
ReplyDeleteI love Copperpods! Such a gorgeous burst of colour. Thank you, Anannya, for reading and your kind comment. :-)
DeleteLovely to read about this transition of seasons so well described! Here, the weight would lift only when the pre-monsoon showers arrive...Waiting!
ReplyDeleteYes to pre-monsoon showers, Charu! Much needed here in the North, too. And thank you. :-)
Delete"December arrives coughing." Love it! The wait for the seasons to change... lovely.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Geethanjali. :)
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