Seasons

borrowing some language from “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll

Wheel on, Earth!
This grinning orbit, lopsided 
axle bolted to time’s 
effortless wheeze -
each season, 
a childhood of delicate unfurling.

A quarter is in the rest of 
shadows ..digging holes for 
themselves; uncleaving from 
the brunt of sun’s inevitable eye.
But sleep must crash open. 
Winter’s serrated boughs with 

vorpal stab pierce the warm, 
moist huddle of buds, fat and inky:
the explosive bust of spring, 
cartridges punctured
interstices bleeding colour 
and light. Ineffable.

And thus, summer blisters
its bright blade sharpened 
to fire-lighting,  manxome heat
folded upon itself, unbearable 
until beamish rays are pruned
by autumn's snicker snack.

And like crushed nut-shells
trimmed to brown and
clattering about our ears 
in dull, relieving harmony,
we fall to rest
with frabjous certainty

and turn about again.
This grinning orbit, lopsided 
axle bolted to time’s 
effortless wheeze -
each season, 
a childhood of delicate unfurling.

11 thoughts on “Seasons

      1. I thought about your poem later and the way we both were influenced by Lewis Carroll this week. It’s such a weird time – it makes sense. 🙂
        I really like your poetry. You write like a ‘real’ poet rather than my slapped together efforts.

        Liked by 1 person

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