deepundergroundpoetry.com

Black Snow

Dark and slow,I thought it day.......
did not know, it was so dark
my watch said twelve  its analogue
 contemptuous of day or night.
We drew our scarves about us,
limp about our necks, damp,  chill,
white wool curtains down our sides
green boots around our knees.
so the day (or was it night)
dragged on, dark . .  .  . slow
dark and slow, slow, so slow,
darkening with each minute.

We were afraid,  looked at my watch,
secretive as before what was going on?
The sky drew dark around us
silent, dead, unnerving, had no control,
  .  .  .  .  .if that we ever had,
sat on the ground  waiting
until the snow not known in summer
fell deep  .  .  . swift  .  .  . black.
So we watched  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Snow-in-Summer we knew it well
from child-hood days, but never black.
All day ( or night),
metres deep to our heads and more
so we stood, what else?
Seemed an age and more,
no air to breath, no birds to sing
.
Then the evil manna melted,
worms again began to stir.....
free of bird and mole,
streams ran clear and bright,
no one left to catch the fish.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
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