Winter speaks –
Atop a furrowed rise a steel sentinel
throws its arms out to the wide horizon’s aching, restless needy.
This is an equal embrace: of the cold shards of hoar frost and
a fixed and lonely vigil.
A city’s life surges through its cold, dead bones and
We pass by, seen and unseen, past blue smoke breathed from
rare but homely fires; past trees
caught in the dawn’s golden light; past the
brown earth and twisted boughs from which we flee daily,
seeking refuge in the clamour of the city.
The rattle and clatter has long since gone and now the
chatter of iron is for those sentinels – not us.
Instead, the murmur of discontented lives plays out
against the insulated burr of progress.
Winter speaks – a quieter season.
BINABASA MO ANG
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
