Sun Setting Over the Dark Green Fringe of a Shivering Lake
Sun setting over the dark green fringe of a shivering lake on the last day of winter
An old man still unbent sits on a deserted wooden bench
with the load of his cares on his convex-ed back
beside him a plastic bag full of weekend wares sags
unable to straighten his cowed congested torso
he blinks through mist hanging under barely-clothed branches
hardly a soul trips over the jagged burnt-amber cobbled-bricks
fresh bursts of prickly sweat teem under collar
cramped armpits
the unease of sticky underwear stretches taut legs
but the load will not set him free
from the pincer lock and spanner hold
three score and the six year curse
undermine the octogenarian as if
a cast-iron sickle and chain hooked his mind to a runaway train
he gasps and leans against the load
his eyes smart assailed by the column of simmering myriad mirror chips dancing on the lake swept by swishing cold blasts of reed-tossed gleam
over the never becalmed lake
transparent linden and birch stare cropped and cut-up
naked and unashaméd
neither warblers nor crows crouch hushed in their lost fastnesses
only the claret whistle-sharp tweets of a lonely but jolly Great tit
cleave the air from sunrise all around the lake and skirting tenement-flats tree tops
piercing clear over the crunch of tires stuttering hoots and growls of changing gears
while the Song thrush apes and parodies the forlorn complaint
past children yelling during recess after painted gaudy face rubber balls spilling over gated kindergarten railings
for days now she or a he calls on every cluster of branch brush or bower breach
dingk dingk/dingk dingk/dingk dingk dingk dingk dingk dingk ding.../
wher've ya been
dingk dingk dingk dingk...
have you/have you/have you seen my mate these days now/ have you/tell me now...
the burnished listless eye of molten gold
over the sill of mauve ether waves
floating on grey eminences of pencil-shade cloud banks
reflecting infinitesimal shiny scales all aquiver in the instant gaze
till the yellow yolk gold stains the melancholy mauve
looming larger than the eye
yet for some more moments
as the grave grey grow
round as a robin flirt
the demure circular twinkling of the garden warbler
tweeting for a partner
as the silver beam on the tired murky waters
recedes
even as it were there now
now no more
the mauve turning ever so reluctantly
till grey cloud formations recall
the silver-lining of a sunken undimmed molten globe
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment