“Sages strove In vain to filter off a crystal draught Pure from the lees.”
Cowper (Task, 1784)
Through the thicket, woven tight,
Filters holy winterlight
Cleansing land bereft of worth
At the warming of the earth.
Summer made the pox abound
On the pullulating ground.
Pustule-like, where wildflowers grew,
Sprouted latex condoms, too.
Beyond earth’s gates of greenhouse gas
A pulseless army camps en masse
And counts its prey and holds its place—
The cold of interstellar space.
I see its bright obsidian gaze
Descend through mawkish, thriftless haze
And penetrate, surpassing price,
An iris blue as glacier ice.
O mother of the blue-eyed earth
Grant to man a winter birth
And dress in blankets warm as snow
The heaven's seed that sleeps below.
1/2/2014
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