These days are moon-milk or magnificent fire,
fronds of furious flowers,
but none grows.
Winter is here
with the dying light, the early dusk
and a sparrowless morning that neither knows
chorusing birds nor dew:-
cold-closed, and pinch-shut, eyes, curtains
show an extravagant blue this morning
while evening, plumped up by a few giddy stars,
gives up –
and ghosts of pale lights withdraw,
leaving a tinder-sky, black through.
(from “”Love” Poems For Kathy / Green. Laced. Leaves”)
<a href="https://pixabay.com/en/frozen-plant-winter-harsh-nature-2458139/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Source</a>