as the frost lifts
the frost is lifting,
so crunching boot ground sounds
soften in the spring,
though fugue like
the air is a cold rhapsody
in dublin south morning.
Hope does not spring,
merely uncoils itself
warmed into joy.
yes, nature is never spent
where economic matters
cull the reservoir.
Bernard Kennedy's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (as the frost lifts by Bernard Kennedy )
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