Now is a perplexing
season in between
the custom quartering of the year—
no bloom, no grow,
no reap, no sow—
the water of the world
collects itself to overflowing
and becomes the atmosphere.

Another drippy morning dawns,
we mutter “not again…”
the paperboy who thumps
his sodden news against the door
looks mad as a wet hen.

The gift of tears has come
to Tefnut, weeping, on her knees.
Damp wads of facial tissue fall
before sad movie after sad
played on our DVD’s.

It’s February fill-dyke, be it
black or white, the farmers say.

Time for the heavens to let loose
the sins they’ve taken in.  Time
to cry for nothing, night or day.

19 responses »

  1. Fabulous words once again Cynthia. I love the two rhyming lines in the first stanza,they encapsulate the whole poem for me. We are having such extreme weather here its quite frightening and many people are up to door knobs in water. Some have lost everyrhing. Its very depressing. And the strong winds too. My husband couldnt drive home from work the other night, the motorway was so dangeous, and our family are due over from Ireland tomorow but they cant sail yet. We have to wait and see. Ok rant over!! This is supposed to be about your poem!! As I said at the beginning its fabulous. I love the last stanza, you have a way of ending your poems quite unexpectedly.

    • You’re right, as usual, John, and I am pleased you see it that way. For me, words have so much more life beyond their denotations, and poems all the more so…and the joy is catching on to it. But of course you know, and also take delight in, that. Thank you for the reading….and rereading. I am honored.

    • Hello Ramu Das..
      How nice of you to visit, and I’m glad you like the poem. After reading the “About” on your blog, I am left with the impression that we are kindred souls in many ways, though vastly separated by gender, age, and geography….I too “speak little and think more than I should.” Thank you for your kind words of appreciation.

  2. The weather in Wisconsin is not pleasant in February: 21 below zero Fahrenheit the night before last and more snow to pile on top of the 60+ inches we already have. However, this poem is as much about an inbetween time, as I read it, as about February. Tefnut is not only weeping her tears, filling up the earth and human spirit with
    no bloom, no grow,
    no reap, no sow—
    But she is also letting loose the sins heaven has taken in, preparing for the eventual, but still far-off, coming of spring.
    This also leads to contemplations about the February of human life and leads to further contemplations of a heaven that needs to let loose its sins.
    This is a provocative effort.

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