Slothful Winter

Hovers away mystic fog
shivering stubborn wood,
neither does Mitharu-blessed walk
nor any of the darkcharmer would.
Passing meadows,running light
even the shreds of black-shimmering countryside,
None put a glance on its
gloomy lone despair sight.
Though it goes on wandering
through all of its lovely memoir-
Lost in the last winter
while singing the choir.
Happy,even when Belphegor appears
it throws away its attire,
Indulged in its sloth years of emptiness
gets ready for His altar.
Withering slowly
deep below beneath its muddy incarnation,
it kneels down before the Banished.


Claude Monet - The Magpie (1868–1869), Musée d'Orsay, Paris
The poem was published at the Daily Observer on 9 September, 2017.

Comments