Taking The Waters

I need to go for a walk,
take my choler off,
rive frost rimed edges,
hard graffito furrows;
double dig a season's secrets
with soul-soaked boots.

Rag up muse, rotted carcasses,
small journeyman pelt bundles,
mummified knuckle and claw;
post prandial belches of fleet Nightwing.

Reflect in their last sylvan moments,
mineral slushed in snow-melt,
seeped in rills through empty burrow;
time's slow drip back to the flow.

Cascade in helix of fur filaments,
streaked sungold in treacle-peat spray;
mist of a moor blinked static
in trick-flicker frequency.

Quiver with moth leaved fern;
fury, feathered in roiled updraft
over gaping maw.

Thought plunge heartchoke stream;
an ice torrent rage through rapacious
swollen gorge.

Scream out a paen to life slice pain,
scythed benediction of winter hill's
gristgrey stain in rip-tendon frost slivers.

Receive splinterblue veined blessings,
grimaced by sullen bonewhite crag.

Quicken, warm embraced in solid sensory
snarl-up; grease marled, gorse-snagged old wool.

Blood myself with lachrymose earth,
rich redolent heme tang;
scent of small troubadour lives,
sung silent in scoured honesty.

Chance upon tight-coiled Spring's turn
in a blancburnished Ram's horn,
gushed through an aven to cavern floor,
ground smooth on the bore
down age scored passages, gashed
over aeons striation of February floods.

Fluff pocket a Gore Dale talisman; tapdance
pattered steps across limestone pavements.

Mayhap, I will,
before this land awakens, to howl
once more, in fierce March winds.

==================================================
Edited 16.07.10

==================================================