A Turning of Mid-Winter

From sky to snowy hills,
only shades of gray
in the still of evening,

yet there is, briefly,
after a bitter week
of wind and cold,

a sense of lightening,
of a loosening
of the heavy ropes

of winter that bind us
in melancholia.
Oh, I do not feel

like flying,
like jumping upstream,
not yet,

but for a moment
i imagine thin spaces
between the vertebrae

filled with tiny joys,
thin pink clouds
of a winter sunset,

like slices of smoked salmon
pink between fists
of coarse dark bread,

lifting me, inch by inch,
somewhere nearer
my full height.

Advertisements

About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A Turning of Mid-Winter

  1. Whimsy Mimsy says:

    I love the comparison of discs, sky, and pink salmon. That is akin genius. Well said, bard. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s