Thursday, December 20, 2007

The First Frost Is The Worst

The forest sits heavy
Hovering faked ice thinice -
Iced hallows of spittle shaded
Caused slight discoloration lane

Not yet able to sense
Stern facile of glory

Gather black white brigade
Of morning magpie pee wee lark -
Or wild nest-raging currawongs
Magpies triumphant hopjumphunt
Pig-a-pecko worms not grubs
More beetles - turning about
Ice collared busted flakes
Barking dogs (with one
Particular magpie
She embraces)
One young 'un magpie
(Still not quite black)
Razes her head and sings
Calling all the others
Of her ilk of kindness
Thin wisps of steam
Twist and disappear.

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