Page 54 - I Am The Seed

FEBRUARY
54
23rd
SNOW SPELL
This is our summer place
But the trees are bare
and all the leaves are crisp,
and the river that we paddled in
is slow and clinks with ice.
The air smokes from us
our voices echo thin and sharp as sleet and everything is sleeping under snow.
In summer we were playing here, we built a dam
my skimmer bounced six times
a wet dog ate our sandwiches
and Dad fell off the stepping stones
you swam your first five strokes.
The air was full of barks and laughs and shouts.
Not long ago, before the spell of snow.
Berlie Doherty
24th
TAM SNOW
(TO KAYE WEBB)
Who in the white wood Barefoot, ice-fingered, Runs to and fro?
Tam Snow.
Who, soft as a ghost,
Falls on our house to strike Blow after blow?
Tam Snow.
Who with a touch of the hand Stills the world’s sound
In its flow?
Tam Snow.
Who holds to our side, Though as friend or as foe We never may know?
Tam Snow.
Who hides in the hedge After thaw, waits for more Of his kind to show?
Tam Snow.
Who is the guest
First we welcome, then Long to see go?
Tam Snow. Charles Causley