Fifty Days of Grey

Cherry

By Ed Crane

Mon, 09 Mar 2020
  • 1533 reads
11 comments
 

There’s no point counting monochrome days

since the eleventh month ushered in so many.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Now I can see light

at the end of the tunnel. Forsythia sparks are

flying with seasonal yellow; my shadowy friend

follows me everywhere, pinpoint sharp and

elongated on blue sky mornings, before clouds

can muddle his edges. I wake up greeted with

illuminated curtains; silver linings on my quilt.

Grass intensifies it’s green. Long renegade blades

cut dark lines across the lawn waving in March

breezes and Wordsworth’s words trumpet

spring in crowds along the untrimmed edges.

 

(Photo taken by me) 

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Comments

Submitted by Ed Crane on

 

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Sounds nice to be up early on a bright morning with the elongated, sharp friend attached! You catch the bright changes well, and the cheer of it. (My mother-in-law, who is 100 and prone to muddles memories, suddenly quoted quite a lot of Wordworth's poem, and then stopped and said that her memory was failiing, but I was so amazed!) Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

 

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Some wonderful images here - I really like it!

Submitted by Ed Crane on

 

 

Submitted by celticman on

i sense spring has sprung. 

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

 

 

Submitted by drew_gummerson on

I hope so. Freezing and wet cycling home on my break to walk dog, freezing and wet walking dog, freezing and wet cycling back to work. But I'm enjoying these spring poems. They give me hope. 

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

 

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

You've really captures it, Ed. I love your pinpoint sharp shadowy friend. Yes, those morning hours before the clouds build. I saw them given a name on a weather forecast recently. Simple enough name but I've forgotten. Lovely prose poem.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Ed Crane on