Poem Nº three
The Silent Cry
Sputter, stop, quip, and stutter
Roaring, raining, spitting mist
Granite stained by straining freeflows
Backs the veil of reigning royals
Upper crown of tumult toils
Till Winter pulls into her throes
Dripping, frozen, hastened frist
Pend Spring an icy mutter
Sun and heat and time return
Spray upon the alter dashes
Season’s teeth upon her gnashes
Form to function churn again