He hammers days out of starlight,
Beating the hard silver shine into a sheet
So flat you could see the shadow of your hand
On the other side if you held it up
To the sun.

His diamond peen claps the cold anvil
Loud as ice cracking under a careless foot.

Happy sparks catch in the wind’s mane,
Freeze into fat snowflakes, and fall
Into Spring’s dreams until she pokes
Tentative fingers from under her white
Blanket and peers out with one bleary
Early sunrise.

The End

17 comments about this poem Feed