“Winter Tellings”—A Poem by Jane Yolen


The frost, of course
and its fine script on the windows.

The fall of snow dusting hunched shoulders
of tall green centurions, with their orders.

The holly and ivy of course,
with berries red as a child’s crayons.

The imprints of tracks, of course,
impress of feet, what stories there.

The scrawl of chimney smoke, of course,
across the blank slate of sky.

A vee of geese, of course,
erratic letters telling of change.

Ice in the streams, of course,
chalk on stones, on beaver dams,

And me trying to read the lacy hand
of that window message,
a tale that needs a translator
or at least a transliteration.

Of course.

Photographer unknown (weheartit.com)

Learn more about Jane Yolen, here…





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.