12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

At Last The Snow

sound slides up walls backwards
a coat cupboard hush
laps the kitten’s purr
cold slap of pigeon wings
all echoes caught in chestnut branches
trapped as light in opals
they’ll thaw and rush all that was
downhill
we’ll hear them
when we think they’re the voices of violets
nosing their flamboyance into the easter light
that’s all to come
promise suspended
for now the white is still able to crack rock and tooth
as it sloughs in a huff from Monte Labbro
leaks into boots and under window frames
where the kitten drinks it down like liquor

Screen Shot 2015-01-12 at 3.41.35 pm
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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2 comments on “At Last The Snow

  1. Angela Highstead
    March 10, 2015

    Hello Ali.
    John presently in London for his mum’s funeral. First email-“8deg and raining, you’d love it.” “This morning 0deg-you’d love it.” But NO snow. Meanwhile here 38deg and 92% humidity; Perth had suddenly become Queensland.
    Your poetry often walks me back into corners of my mind of long forgotten memory. First snow, North Yorkshire, from the blizzard came the calm and for a day a thirty year old became a child again. Thank you for the little stroll.
    May the creative creatures of the world draw you to their bosom.
    Love to you both. Angela x
    Sent from my iPad

    >

    • Kittykatmandoo
      March 12, 2015

      Ha ha, Love the subject title. Sorry to hear about John’s mum.
      I’m pleased to hear that my words are aligned enough to take someone for a walk somewhere into themselves and out the other side. I guess that’s poetry’s purpose (one of them): to attempt to create a little essential oil from a transient bouquet.
      Love to you from both of us xxx

Tell me wotcha reckon

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This entry was posted on March 10, 2015 by in Poesia, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , .
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