Willard Bay

Posted: March 27, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Tough clumps of yellow grass
lean down to wet marshland
where reeds hide nests and birds.
Long legged water fowl
cry in harsh voices;
haunt the barren grey land.

Past the marsh is lake
covered by milky grey ice,
like a cataract on an eye;
shading and concealing.
The dull grainy sheets intermingle
with the gleam of deep black water,
welling into the spaces
where ice is breaking up

Spring is almost here,
the air, moist and bitter;
the scent of decay and new life.
The cold has lost its edge,
but wind blowing off the water
sends white birds wheeling
through the sky
like so many blown leaves.

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