for the muse – when the wind of old men cries out for thunder

oh gentle one
in this wintering time the trees now know
which are leaf barren
and which are evergreen

and muses can’t refrain
from lamenting the passing of the leaves

can’t help but shiver
when the wind of old men cries out for thunder

when the dregs of a fine cask if wine
tell your mouth to be bitter

spit them out

hold your breath for a second or two
then breathe in the crystal wine
of this crisp, fresh winter’s aire

close your eyes
squeezing them hard
then open the world anew
and let the light of your wintering garden
cascade into the empty place inside you

rise and brush the shadows from your shoulders
let the past and future be
and let your breath be the song that’s always been there

so speaks the Chyfrin

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

2 thoughts on “for the muse – when the wind of old men cries out for thunder”

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s