Winter Curio Poem by Romella Kitchens
Winter Curio
We scan the woods looking for Winter flowers.
We find one frozen in clear ice.
Almost as if encased in a crystal box.
We stand in the naked brown
woods, the ice pelting us
and regard it.
Its icy coffin, so succinct,
pure looking and square.
Sometimes we starve for an apt season.
But, it is as it is.
The blooms always seemingly gone too
quickly and perpetually longed for
but yet to come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 8:01:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
