A Summer’s Field in Winter by Michael L. Utley

Image Source: Canva Pro

let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes

let us scavenge rusted hopes from twisted

hulks of yesterdays amid the swelter

and the din of frigid silence

as crows circle

this broad swath the acreage of sorrow

garden of the gods whose feckless mewling

echoes ‘cross the eons and the seasons

crumble into dust as autumn

gives up her ghost

we were never long for this cold world, this

dispensation of abominations

sunset fell before the flax had faded

bleeding out beneath indiff’rent

constellations

paradise, oh paradise eternal

dashed upon the stones of human hubris

we the stewards dined on milk and honey

as our world descended into

oblivion

thus the world was burned and we burned with it

rendered lurking shadows in the gloaming

flesh and bone have failed us as the season

of regrets approaches; we have

earned winter’s wrath

in our dreams we’ll gather wild flowers

fetch the wicker basket for the poppies

crowns of woven larkspur shall adorn us

we will rest among oak shadows

in the clearing

and when we awaken from our slumber

and when we espy the desolation

let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes

in the winter’s frigid silence

as crows circle

-MICHAEL L. UTLEY

Mike is a deaf writer/photographer who lives in rural southwest Colorado, USA.  His love of nature shines through his poetry and photography, both of which he uses to make sense of his world.

Please visit Silent Pariah to read and view more of his wonderful work.

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