There isn’t much left for me to do
During this dead of winter
While the snow covers me up
Like language, like bitter
Hexameters, like a cold poem.
Like a long letter from home.
Like the fall of words
That piled up years long
That thawed and froze and thawed and froze
That one fine day were dislodged by a mere nothing
That avalanched all at a go
And strewed our bodies to the far reaches
Of the meadow, from which they
Couldn’t ever be recovered
When it turned out spring
Didn’t come.
Images: Simplicity by Flickr user martinak15, published under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) license; by Washington State Dept of Transportation, published under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) license.
Linkback: Dverse.
Bag of Anything 
oy…that spring would never come…
it was the long letter from home that set this up for me…the thawing and freezing of hearts…and words…that only hold so long before the avalanche…and bodies strewn….
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hexameter was a nice touch..as well…playing on the six feet of burial…
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Thank you for your kind words — and the Six Feet Under reference, which I confess I hadn’t connected up. I was thinking snowflakes… six-sided crystals… hexameters… And I’m still wishing a bit that there was at least one hexameter in the poem, but the burial connection is good!
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i’ve been to that place before too.. where spring didn’t come.. a cold hearted snow.. is one that did not thaw that year…
Perhaps the human animal out of balance.. is the only plant or animal capable of not springing with nature.. at time of imbalance…
like this…
Perhaps the comforts and sorrows coming in complexity of culture..
come with a price..
like this…
But Spring comes.. given enough time.. most often..
with seasons.. or the different nature..
of humans with comforts and sorrows of complex culture..alike…:)
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Those icy words that kill – what gripping images! I could relate to every single one – the thaw and refreeze, the mere nothing dislodging the avalanche… Powerful work, which disturbed me more than I can say.
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Thank you — or, I’m sorry, maybe?
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hmm…a cold poem, hexameter….you packed a lot into this ..I can’t imagine such pain in the trail of an avalanche..
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Thanks for stopping by – and may I also say (apropos of nothing) that I really, really like your telescope-on-the-beach Gravatar logo thingie?
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When you use the parallels of words and snow it becomes truly significant.. and a winter of thawing and freezing where everything become locked together.. This create an image of what world could do.. I think even spring would find it hard.
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Sometimes even spring doesn’t get the job done, true.
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Sometimes it does seem, in the dead of winter, that spring will never come. And yes , sometimes there seems nothing much to do as one waits for spring to appear.
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It’s not for nothing it’s called the dead of winter.
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No…not for spring to come…surely it will though right now it looks grey, bitter, cold poem ~
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Fingers crossed… though it’s way harder to type that way. But I do what I can.
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