First Rite

First Rite

 

 

Reluctantly compliant twigs

permit the murmuring wind

to pluck arpeggios –

 

they glisten as they dance,

throw off the recent rain,

as if to solemnize the ground

 

in Holy baptism.

Shoots drill

through the cold

 

sodden ground,

shrilling defiance.

Snow’s residue,

 

a blanket stitch,

hems in the pale green spears.

A sunbeam breaks

 

the day’s grey wash –

as if to bless

this new emergence.

 

 

 

Malcolm Evison

                               24 January 2007

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