Wrapped up extravagantly in arctic
blue-white lights, a front-garden new-fangled
Christmas-tree, a winter-cherry sculpted
out intensively, so pixelated,
where last year a low-res firefly-like drape
traced out a delicate dot-line drawing,
an outlier in the best selective
suburban vein - Undying Lands.
I pass through harsh junctions and roundabout
and come to garish walls, red, white and blue,
where jerking arm waves young December on.
It is the season now, vox populi,
majority declare it so, and so
a single malt will sing while big bills blow.
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
