A poem starting with a line from The Song of Wandering Aengus by William Butler Yeats
A Taste for the Green
I went out to the hazel wood,
because a fire was in my head,
and it was sweet as green,
as Absinthe and a sugar cube
on a little silver slotted spoon,
and as I watched the cold finger
of frost draw across my eyes,
I was free as death from its mitre.
Its chill cut the cracks and gaps
as it wormed its way into the night.
Know your limits, I say, or you’ll
wake on the wrong side of green.
This poem was inspired by a 20-point prompt at Miz Quickly’s, and a prosery prompt at dVerse Poets. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021