Monday, March 11, 2019
March, Winter’s Death Mask by Marion
Winter Snow, 2015
March, Winter’s Death Mask
By Marion Lawless
The spindly, naked trees are gently swaying—
one warm day, a row of tiny
leaves appear, marching up the branches,
specks of green from dead-looking, dry limbs,
like baby grasshoppers walking slowly in file.
Cold returns for a bleak few weeks,
knocking on the doors and windows, trees bowing in respect,
the jade leaves clinging as if glued to each branch.
Cold rain beating the new emerald-hued grass
sheets of ice, clear, like bits of tiny broken glass
fighting to stay much longer, in spite of time passing,
the sunshine gently molding mud,
an annual mystical task...preparing
Winter’s death mask.