The Best of the English Club's Poetry Wall
The
warm flood of light
slowly
boils over
from
the cold barren winter shadow
and
the immense weakness of death
is
washed away from all life
by
the bright tide of spring morning
rising
from the yet dark day
like
the whisper from tired men’s songs.
You begin as the equinox
and fall like solstice.
Ask it to need you as if
it
were a photograph seeing
time
fly from a bouquet of
fire
and freeze here on the
floor.
I chain love to the
center of my life
And though it asks to
spring from the boiling dark,
I turn slowly from the
secret fiery sound.
I do not want it to
leave.
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