Poinsettia Tips
by Irina Moga
Unruffled by the freezing wind
the morning subsides at the edge of a poinsettia tip,
a mantle of red rims
arching in the onslaught of the cold.
Bells of a warmer December,
a quiet toll of flurries and snow
creep up in the bay of its color
as if whispers dislodged from our words
turned up at the windows,
snowmen of sorts.
The poinsettia tips
anchor the bloom -
a decorous ring of air
in an unseen and solemn season
that advances and awaits,
advances and awaits,
our fever.
4 comments:
Irina,
the last line is 'sensuously' exquisite.
Thank you Conrad...
...in line with the season, I guess.
BTW - Happy Holidays!
Ah, don't be so modest...
the delicious nuancing here is unmistakable. Very skilful work
Do post more poetry.
And happy holidays to you, too.
...will strive to do, Conrad.
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