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

This entry was posted in POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s