while the days are yet a flourish
in the mornings with the lazy ray of sun
that rides above the current cold
of winter breath
there is a puff of cloud
no more
until
a blinking of the eyes has passed
and grey is come from nowhere
over-filling blue and the immediate surrounds
I will dance upon the green
of luffing grasses
stooped in the act of making wind-puffed
ripple waves
almost sleeping
for the days are growing short
and cool
too cool above the ground
but watch me rise
a leap
to make the sound of clicking heels
and the devil
may he care
for I do not
I am preoccupied
among the drumming rhythms of my feet
to patterns I imagine
with the vigour of a flourish
oh these lazy zephyrous days
come hold my hand and dance you
with me now
before the heavy breath
of winter
sets a weight upon our shoulders
and the season bears us down
© Frank Prem, 2002
Pretty with a lovely conclusion. Nice one, Frank.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Anita. Glad you enjoyed the piece. Cheers, Frank
LikeLike
Great piece, Frank. Super writing!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Michael. To think, I was already worried about winter, way back then!
Cheers,
Frank
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cool poem.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Jessica.
Cheers,
Frank
LikeLiked by 1 person
Looking forward to hearing those clicking heels, oh hubby o’ mine – perhaps we should let the grass grow over spring?
LikeLiked by 1 person
The meadow to be our dance floor, the lapwings to serenade us.
Ki-yi-yi-i!!
F~
LikeLiked by 1 person