New Winter Poem by Shikhandin Shikhandin

New Winter

I have grown unused to this
tightening of skin,
peeling of husk from heel

seasonal birds look at me strangely
for I do not remember
the shiver in their songs
I do not remember
sleet stung leaves, now

a quiver of rain jabs
and the pain in my joints
becomes
an extra limb that I must carry
like a cross. No more slapping

of wet hair between braided towel
the scent of lavender fading
from old woolens shaken from disuse

no more scent of tomatoes
ripening in the sun,
soil loosened to receive
new seeds. No more

of all that now, for suddenly
a lopsided carol announces Christmas
and plastic trees stand, proud

sentinels of the season,
when I only ventured out
to buy lip balm

(First published in Crannog, Ireland)