Winter gifts

Frosted leas and crystal meadows,

Naked trees and misted hollows

Greet the eyes this winter dawn.

And for the ears, an equal greeting
Crunching leaves, snow geese honking

Chittering squirrels, Peckers tonking.

The frigid bite of wind on skin,
The icy sting of wind-born flake,

These tactile gifts keep us awake.

Tangy wood smoke greets the nose
And the musk of dampened trees

Linger on within our clothes

Even though they make us sneeze.

All winter’s gifts, we welcome these.

A Poet’s Lament

After running in place

for what seems like an age,

can’t I just lessen the pace

and scribble a word on this page?

Why must there always be work,

some urgently pressing demand,

a duty too vital to shirk

requiring my guiding hand?

Surely I will find some way

to invite my pen out to play

even if ending the day

I struggle for something to say!

In fact, it seems I’ve found time

to doodle this trivial rhyme.

A Sanguine Supplication – A Collaboration with Aroil In Pain

Matt and I wrote this collaborative piece. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it.

This Mortal Flesh

Paris Cafe by Daniel Wall

As our world here, once again
quakes in apoplectic fits,
I can’t but worry, wonder when
me or mine will take a hit

yet fear can hold no place in me
as anger stews and flays
this red drop’s bliss can free my mind
if only for today

Would that we could gather ’round
some table with a Beaujolais
and drink and talk until we’ve found
some common ground, a better way

Trade swords for words, guffaw for tears
less a dream than sunny night
still my heart hopes and yearns for more
than sullen readings of last rites

We owe it to ourselves, at least,
to take the risk, to risk the pain,
to dream together, for lasting peace.
We’ve naught to lose, and much to gain.

Written by Matthew and Andy
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


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