Hunters in the Snow: The Bare Thorns
February is a wind
that cuts through the bare thorns
of the rose bushes.
Never mind the hum
of small black gnats that possess
the air. .
Better to remember
a rose’s scent. Your father’s voice.
What makes you laugh.
And I set my pen aside
and listened – because I am
the hunter’s earbone.
Ekphrastic poem based on Bruegel’s Hunters in the Snow, 1565. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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