Ellie (anchovie) wrote in excuse_me___,


Winter's pen, writing
only ".".
Little stabs might,
in perpetual winter,
have an effect in erosion,
but the season's ellipsis
. . . . .
still means nothing.
The poem, written in water,
is soon shouted down
by Spring's song -
golden trumpets and blue bells.
Tags: icicles

  • Icy Infatuation

    The wonders of icicles still capture me, the caught image of an action never fully completed. "Those things can be dangerous" you said; I pay no…

  • (no subject)

    Icicles Outside my front door There is a cage of ice Dripping in a bush. It's like a natural prison cell. Imprisonment for an unassuming bird…

  • Topic

    As of 2.4.05 Icicles. Sorry for those of you who are not going through winter right now. ;)

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.