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.