by William Bedford
The savage, foaming wind-crazed sea
lacerates the Eastern Shore,
causing man and beast to flee
the wild Atlantic’s lethal roar.
An icy veil of salty mist
is flung from nature’s hostile—
hand as winter clamps its frigid fist
across the sleeping, fallow land.
But winter’s rage will soon be done
its cold-heart pierced by sunny rays
and we’ll bury it deep in the spring-green
earth without so much as a word of praise.
But this is a corpse that won’t stay dead
it only hides from the spreading light,
like a vampire it will rise again
to stalk the cold-dark wintry night.
SAINT OF HEARTS|
St. Patrick drove the snakes away
St. Francis loved the birds
St. Christopher guided travelers
St. Paul had all the words
St. George slew the dragon
but St. Valentine stands apart:
While his fellow saints were all
St. Val was for the heart.
Canadian Free Press “Poet in Residence” William Bedford was born in Dublin, Ireland, but he has lived in Toronto for most of his life. His poems and articles have appeared in many Canadian journals and in some American publications as well. He’s a pro at empty nesting—he has a daughter, three grandchildren (all engineers), and twin great-grandsons. William can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Empty Nest: A Magazine for Mature Families
© 2012 Spring Mount Communications