It's Still Life

Blackberrying with Sylvia Path

I’m on a morning stroll,
and I smell snow.
I know it, like a sailor knows
hooks, and knots, and knows the sea.
It’s coming. And soon.
Arctic winds bridge the seasons,
giving reason to leafless trees
and icy winds, long frigid nights
and woolly bed socks.

Nobody’s on this footpath today.
Lonely hedges, bare thorny twigs,
and summer’s blackberries
turned to jam.
And honey bees take up shelter,
protesting, still protesting
those barren muddy meadows.

But I live here
in this poetry,
waiting for today’s snow to pass,
and Sylvia’s blackberries to return.

inspired by Miz Quickly’s Day 12: Where I Live and Sylvia Path’s poem “Blackberrying”. The word “bridge” comes from a recent dVerse prompt. Some phrasing from Plath’s poem is included in this poem.