no longer hospice for the leaves

park-view van gogh

no longer hospice for transfigured death of leaves
limbs…bare raked…transmogrified by wind and sleet,
line etch against gray smearing blur of winter sky

all gathering into… like suppression of a breath
a withholding …latent…dormant through the
binding and the blinding of pale moratorium

as if dense curtains close the ending of Act Two
when a yellow orange red plot falls destined into stop
when nothing can be done…intermission and suspend

when deep green urge awaits the fusing of the sun,
for we’ve read the story…know the stages in
the play…sense inevitable shift…abide waiting
and show patience…and know seasons change that way

Bonnie Marshall

Artwork by Vincent van Gogh, 1887

21 thoughts on “no longer hospice for the leaves

  1. The images in this poem are so vivid, Bonnie. You’ve brought the bleakest days of winter into sharp focus. I love the phrase, “Gray smearing blur of sky…” Lovely.

    1. Winter has its own bounty. I’ve been enjoying your Sturbridge Village photography and Christmas tree on the lake photos. I appreciate the cold you endured to capture the beauty.

  2. Lovely dear. We never realize more dearly that which we are losing until we realize we have less left.

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