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Monday, January 5, 2015

Lily Pond on New Year's Day

At first winter,
the geese congregate,
gabbling as they do,
churning grey tea to chop,
shatter-glass ice
fashioned at the edges.
From a distance,
you frame it,
while on the inside,
a glacier slopes the lungs,
this cold syrup
knowing no April,
until it’s time to press.
And exhale,
jungle clouds
fogging the vision,
reading for an instant
like an open door
to a hothouse,              
a wall of humidity.
But no.
It's a shutter-click.
A finite blast
of false positive,
brushing you with
a counterfeit warmth.


Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

Intricate weave of words! And great shot of the geese.

Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybe said...

Lovely poem and pictures.

Madeline Mora-Summonte said...

Gorgeous photos and lovely words to match them. :)

Delores said...

A chilly scene indeed. One wonders why the birds would choose to park their bottoms in ice cold water lol.

Susan Gourley/Kelley said...

That made me shiver a little. Your pictures are lovely but also portray the chill.

Joanne said...

wow - love the poem and those pictures are so crisp - the colors glisten. Great start to 2015.

Robin said...

I think your picture-taking is still improving. These are fantastic.

I particularly like the last line of the poem. Counterfeit warmth. Yep, there'll only be that until spring. ::sigh::

Tricia J. O'Brien said...

That pond (and your capture of it) is gorgeous. I feel peace along with the cold, and love your words on the experience. Happy new year, Liza.