The Gentle Crocus Hones Green Blades of Rain (a villanelle rebuttal of Thomas)

Niel Gow’s ‘Lament for the Death of his Second Wife’

The Gentle Crocus Hones Green Blades of Rain

The gentle crocus hones green blades of rain
And whittles gaps in notes the small birds sing;
Out of silence we build our last refrain.

Melodies of youth are remembered strains
When the winter snows melt and flow in spring.
The gentle crocus hones green blades of rain.

The geese return, dark and raveling skeins
Falling down from skies string by tangled string.
Out of silence we build our last refrain.

A fiddle’s lament stills the nights again
As wasp and nettle barb and hook their stings.
The gentle crocus hones green blades of rain.

The days are gone when our bright bodies came
Together as a warm-toned bell ringing
Out of silence. We build our last refrain.

Some would tell you rage while the last light drains
From day. But night’s a black and perfect wing.
The gentle crocus hones* green blades of rain.
Out of silence we build our last refrain.

*It was very hard to resist using whets in place of hones all through this one.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Dylan Thomas, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Spring, The Sky, Villanelle, Wild Geese and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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