phogirl69
 

Flakefall

"The scythe of Autumn felled the withered day,
and low the grazing Winter claimed new hay,
in hungry double-handfuls." I
am tempted by the echo of old lines
to quit this forward place, but am arrived
where boldly-stroked black letters lie
succumbed in whiteness. "Once, before the snow
had ever spoken harshly to the ground,
it lay but as a gift." One sound
returns me now unwilling to the page. "It is an age
of cold white hysterical noise."



24 December, 2001



http://www.mathematicianspictures.co..._JPEG_ROSE.JPG

That's a very nice poem, thank you :)