Sitting on a Bench Waiting for the End of Winter

by Thomas Davis

Time hides in words spoke on the radio,
Inside newspaper columns gray with print.
The young girl, in the winter, watched the flow
Of snow wisps on the lake, her dreams intent
Upon the booming chunks of gleaming ice
That spring would heave on shore, great, white walls, cold
In spite of how the sun thawed sacrifice
From frozen ground and hazed the air with gold.

The young girl took her radio outside
And read the paper sitting on a bench
As winter waited for the moon-stirred tide
To free warm waters from its icy clench.

The young girl waited on her bench for spring
When she and ice and all the world would sing.


Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis

9 responses to “Sitting on a Bench Waiting for the End of Winter

  1. Oh my! That’s glorious! There’s a beautiful musicality in those lines, Thomas, sustained by the rhythm, the end-rhymes and the hidden internal rhymes and the repetitions. All of which reinforces the visual beauty of the scene.
    I think also that the choice of a young girl as the person waiting the spring is a lovely felicitous decision.
    I said to you separately recently that I still enjoy your long epic poem An American Spring that I once persuaded you to send me privately. There are similar passages in that which capture a brightly painted scene in lyrical verse.
    Glorious! Love it!

  2. Brilliant… Here’s to Spring!… as winter lets go of its grip.. x

  3. Thanks Sue. I have been having trouble getting to poetry, except when reviewing, lately, but I’ve got to get back to your site.

  4. This is beautiful Tom, and could be about me! Except I am not the young girl on the bench. But when I am out in the garden waiting for spring and to sing with the world then age becomes irrelevant because the attitude is as young as it ever was. I love, love, love the sense of impending colour in you poem. Just beautiful and now I am looking forward to spring even more and hoping my hand is still strong enough this year to hold the camera. 😊

  5. Full of craft and surprise, sly probings at the strictures of the form while never losing the overall picture and the underlying emotional message, a naked appreciation of the present but not without a quiet longing.

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