poetry and prose
The Dogs of Hunters In The Snow
Dogs lead the way
in this
cold otherworld.
Stray to scents, and
footprints in snow.
Paws dancing
dense and cold to
frost clear tunes.
Iced twigs.
Clings to limbs.
Same sameness laying
a tapestry of white.
There’s no sensible heat
in this featureless light.
dVerse Quadrille #119 “way”. Image excerpt from Pieter Bruegel’s Hunters in the Snow, and shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
A vividly ekphrastic quadrille – even without the image in front of me, Marilyn. I can feel the chill of the snow and smell the dogs! I love those paws dancing / dense and cold to / frost clear tunes’ and the ‘tapestry of white’.
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Lovely piece – ‘same sameness’ is a standout line. I continue to marvel and Bruegel’s skills – each of these pooches with their own personalities – including the doleful hound looking directly at us across the snows of time. Marvellous.
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I’m glad you mentioned the first “same” because it nearly got the chop for being borderline useless. But it snowed here yesterday, and a walk proved that there is a same sameness when it’s white on white and snow-filled potholes are still potholes to catch the tip of your boot. I was drawn to the anxious pup behind the doleful one – with the arched back, and tail tucked under its bum in fear. I adore Bruegel. Thanks for reading this one, Peter.
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Or St Bernards that rescue people buried in avalanches.
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I’m glad to hear that you enjoyed reading it, Mish. Thank you.
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😂 Thank you!
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You bring winter in or take us out to it in your poem, Misky. It is just so. The image feels alive on the page. Wonderful immersion poem!
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😂
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Oh! I had a Springer. Completely loveable, totally mad dogs. Gosh I miss her so much.
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LOL! Thanks!
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What a lovely piece of writing.
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No worries 🤣
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Strangely enough, I think of all my neighbors having their new covid-dogs now having to go for long walks in the snow.
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Perhaps the world hasn’t moved on so much after all.
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It's Still Life 
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