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Waiting.
Bone damp grey
wraps a blanket
round the hour
chill flakes fall
holding no value,
rattling across folded
leaves to no purpose,
only a few
capped in half laced
white.
Birds call, take flight
undaunted, scar the
boughs with feathers
resting.
A Robin sings and
I know...
Spring is but a heartbeat
away.
"undaunted flight"
Nice. "A robin sings and I know..." poetically mirrors the near adaged time reference "heartbeat". Imagine the ending without the last line; the previous lines verify "can't wait". Still, the cliché works thematically and rhyrhmically.
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The flakes have no value? For the poet none anticipatory of melting snd warm buddings. There is great value in the image. There is so much more here.
Assuredly enough. ~S~
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