Thursday, August 13, 2015


Breezes freeze
Like kisses from dead lovers,
Black clouds cloak
The meekest weakest sunshine,
Grey nomads shield cars
With plastic covers,
Wavelets cross the lake,
Breaking serpentine.
Picture snitchers
Prowl the frothy foreshore
To snap the storm's beginnings
And its ends,
But their artwork won't hear
The fearsome roar,
Photos won't help us feel
The bitter blends
Of snow and sleet
That burn as if to scold,
Making brave mountain ranges
Cry from cold.

The words "cry from cold" are from Scott Walker's remarkable song, 'Montagu Terrace'.

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