them winter branches

And here I am again 

Enigma seasoning

Feeling and eluding 

As words fail the abstract 

Lines dissecting the sky

Confronted by fine twigs

A criss-cross confusion

Naked on the light sky 

Of blue,or grey, or fog

And this and that and but

Surviving the until 

Ignored - look - look - ignored

Light's splinter hanging - there

The thinnest crescent moon

Untouched - Perfect - Complete

Hope in embryo buds

This their searching finding

In this one cold instant

Limits of comprehension

In lights obliteration

Snow will fall and soften

The statements intention 

Birds will be supported

They will wave in the wind

Drip rain - but continue

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

I love seasonal pieces, and this reads quite beautifully.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

even when there is only that small splinter of light, of hope, but nonetheless, we continue on...

and the statements will come supported by those depressed birds.
but comprehension does seem to be obliterated...the words so cold they break apart...

wow this piece is so heavy, it brought me into a gray fog.

well done.

[Michael Oliver]

thanks Jacob - it is about my failure to find the correct words for that strange veil twigs and branches draw across the winter . After seeing the Imitation Game at the cinema when Icame out thre was this very thin new moon hanging in the sky. I noticed the branches did not 'viel' thi.The idea for this poem was already gestating and this gave a different spin.
Thanks for reading and your comments - it is a bit bit influenced by the previous hybrids in its compressed nature.