Nine miles of dirt road

On the sillion road in a morning walk
Paced a tree’s branches in winded brisk;
A cold Autumn’s day, a dappled one it was
In bleak December. After a frost, dew
Sat chilled on browning grass, moles stippled
In a plotted earth, a crimson sky fresh
Fiery in eastward clouds like a phoenix.

I perchance a smelling of wood-smoke,
Comes the white bone ash slow and clutching
On steady air; a crow flight forth on wimpling wing
Sweeps smooth the bow-bend wind.

How crisply sudden the quilted hills, patchwork
In a fold edged by pastures dotted with cow
And horse, voices gnawing on winter’s vapor
Off forth in a breeze, snowflakes through them
Mells white on the fringe and fray of the dirt road.

Apart wide and trodden, is anything milk to
A thought, so sighs a mind, a touch of heaven
Furl fasts a journey, I grasp at the child things
In a memory; a time can there be such
Luring to a blind man in a world which barely
Breathes? What bareness like widowed wombs.
And yet, Spring and its pleasures wait for me anew.

Copyright © 11/28/17 lance sheridan®

np-nine-miles-of-dirt-road

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This entry was posted in Poetry.

37 comments on “Nine miles of dirt road

  1. Lona Gynt says:

    Memory, Spring, milk for thought. You have rendered a synesthetic blend of images where we all can share in this walk. So much that passes, but oh that wait for spring.

  2. aphrodite smiles says:

    I love a piece that makes me feel… and this makes me feel. A lot!

  3. I like all the textures. It evokes what Gerard Manley Hopkins sees in nature and all under heaven: God’s fingerprints.

  4. Lona, beautifully stated. Thank you.

  5. aphrodite, thanks so very much for your thoughts>

  6. Gospel Isosceles, so gracefully put- thank you so much!

  7. Singledust says:

    quilted hills, patchwork – your entire poem a stunning tapestry for the senses

  8. This is really good, Lance. I was drawn in by the depth of the words, the description and the underlying sense of meaning. The description of the crow was incredible, and I also love these lines,

    ‘a time can there be such
    Luring to a blind man in a world which barely
    Breathes? What bareness like widowed wombs.
    And yet, Spring and its pleasures wait for me anew.’

    Hopeless yet pregnant with possibility and rebirth at the same time. Thank you!
    Blessings, Debie

  9. You took me on a beautiful journey down a scented path. Thank you.

  10. Full of colour, texture scents. Hit the wrong button lol before I was finished.

  11. A lovely memory preserved.

  12. ortensia says:

    A piece that go straight to the hearth!

  13. This really puts me there…I can almost smell melting snow and the mud beneath. Thank you Lance for bringing some pleasant childhood memories back😊

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