2014 - Vol. 73
A selection of poems
from The snipe in winter, by Sean O'Neill
poem by Sean O'Neill
The stony heart of the wind weighs against
the door, probing its frail outlines, looking
for a way past its fastness, unhooking
the chimney and the tiles as though it sensed
that conventional entry was futile.
When each gust blows, all we can do is sit
waiting to brave the long cold and submit
to the chill, fearing the skyís stern bugle.
The lonely windís frostbitten music comes
and we tremble with irrational fear;
but when our time comes, it comes to us all
from Godís hand not from natureís dreaded drums
or trumpets of tremendous doom. Godís mere
whisper is louder than the airís shrill call.
illustration above: House by Chadds Ford,
by Andrew Wyeth
selection of poems from The snipe in winter, by Sean O'Neill
||This poem is from The
snipe in winter, a new collection of poems by Sean OíNeill. Available
Book available at Amazon.
O'Neill is originally from Glasgow, Scotland, and currently lives in St.
Paul, Minnesota, USA. He has published three books of poems and several
in past issues of Living Bulwark