When life gives you lemons… kick its bitchy ass. Inspired by a crappy day, with love from the Bad Poets’ Society.
Black specks against grey branches,
Their orange-banded wings like wound or warning
Against the tangled limbs of the skeleton trees
Rising in silent resistance
Like sleeping princess’ thorny copse.
Indistinguishable, bird from tree,
In the day’s everlasting twilight
Nothing but snow-choked lawn in front
And frozen field beyond.
I can feel myself petrifying
At the sight of Medusa’s wooden curls
Nothing auspicious in this place –
Winter’s endless gloaming