The Frankenhoff Review

When the snows go and there’s land once more,
It’s as if the thaw has suckled and drawn
All colour from stoma and reluctant pore,
And left grimy clothes for the land to put on.
The snows seemed clean compared to this,
This resurrection of heather and dirty green;
But fenceposts with their buckled rigging, they don’t miss
A burden they hadn't asked for and, between
My house and where I got the car stuck, the path
Opens to a temporarily elastoplasted male ego,
As if Moses had cleared the snow with a crack of his staff
And commanded, "Toyota - forth from ditch must thou go!"
Like a sower of seed I salt the last of the frost,
As the assail of winter in thoughts of spring is lost.