Forecast

freezing


Forecast

Does the peach
blossom

count its
numbered days

in the lure of false
spring?

Smiling, you admit pleasure
in cruelty,

in assigning lots
to the relief of those

never called,
and those whose answers

remain open,
unfixed.

The freeze is coming,
you say.

Let us pray.

 

frozen

This first appeared here in January 2017.

9 thoughts on “Forecast

  1. There’s something liturgical in this poem, with questions ranging from a hint of Tao Qian to Calvinism to the grand solar minimum. Or perhaps I have read my own thoughts into the intervals between the words. It also made me feel as if I were eavesdropping on an awkward or painful conversation between a thoughtful persona and the kind of person (only hinted at) who cannot be reasoned with. Powerful poem.

    Liked by 1 person

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