Rhapsodia

Winter has opened her white wing,
brushing the earth with feathers of snow.
Her cloak of sentience is a beautiful thing,
wrapping the earth in a glimmering glow.
Whiter than white of the white of the snow,
splendor swings along the spine of the sky,
smiling over the trees standing row on row,
spun like a snow-silk shimmering caravanserai.

Silence resounds on a harp of salient string,
with tiptoe whispers in slippers of snow.
With the crystalline voice of a wondrous wellspring,
she sings of sunlight simpatico.
I gather her blossoms among the mistletoe,
and I gather her whiteness in the back of my eye.
In the wanderlust wandering wayward indigo,
I find the lengthening lull of a lullaby.

Winter makes new the birth of everything,
in the silent stillness of soft-falling snow.
She is the decadent dawning of divining,
a ripe reflection of all that we know.
Her petals fall to the ground in vertigo,
like rain on the wings of a butterfly.
She is the rooftop rhapsody sculpted in snow,
her white wings whispering across the sky.

Reviews

[Twilight]

"Rhapsodia" is a good choice of title for this poem. After all it is both freely structured and emotional. Furthermore, it is a very timely piece. The references to white and the snow have different connotations. We tend to associate these with purity sometimes.

As the snow falls in this beautiful poem, the reader feels almost present. Such an attractive picture is painted, that I would dearly like to be there. If only, for a few precious moments.

The imagery and wording are both lovely. Thanks for sharing this with us, Linda.

[bluessadmood]

My God how lovely you draw pictures
i see them so nice and i marvel at what i see
and at your lovely words
better than any painter you are
only no brush only words..you use
Winter has opened her white wing,
brushing the earth with feathers of snow.
Her cloak of sentience is a beautiful thing,
wrapping the earth in a glimmering glow.
Whiter than white of the white of the snow,
splendor swings along the spine of the sky,
smiling over the trees standing row on row,
spun like a snow-silk shimmering caravanserai.

what can i say ,there is no more sweetness than this
as i said ,its majic and you are singing magic,just wonderful