Friday, January 12, 2007

Dead Days

Cut mistletoe lay withered off the bough
Holly, crown-fallen, no more king now
Discarded Christmas tree thrown against the wall
Needleless, left to languish 'gainst the squall
The rain runs, off pavement, into gutter
Only seen by faint light cowering behind window shutter
These are dead days
Into which is born a new year.


rustle



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