Winter Poem

November 25, 2012

Chiminea, now you see her, covered
over by a PVC black liner,
like a condom, on a chimney.
a nurse’s habit, or a cockpit.

And the hanging baskets hang like angels,
decrepit in the Winter Solstice; resting there
for a moment, on the patio, like a blanket,
dieing beautifully, to the tune of the sunflowers

as advised by the reviewer
from The Guardian Weekend.

Chiminea now you see her,
totem in the undergrowth.

Chiminea, now the year’s up,
to go beautifully is an art.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: