John Lusardi Poet Imagism

When the Snow Comes

When the Snow comes.


the catkins lilt, sway in a long prediction
                         to soon !
Mothers clock, gets it wrong;
It actually is non fiction

Now pinned! escape is futile 
          destined!
Snowflake blades cut a frugal slash
It actually is so crucial:

Time, the sway moves to being frantic,
              Its late!
a lean becomes a fall, a grounding
now its very erratic!

On the shoulder its talon grips;
        an ending?
it deepens its arrival, no decline!
Soothing now, its eclipse.

Time, its final fall, Catkins must seed
        a re-birth!
all that had been,on a simple tree;
now guaranteed to succeed!

And what of the coming Snow?
      that came!
the bending twist, of stress on limbs,
left in the now Sun, to outgrow.

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