It's Still Life

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