Poem scroll

Snow Maidens, a Star and an unknown quantity - read on!


A dozen arboreal snow maidens
grace our concrete street:
like virginal brides –
some blushing –
confetti at their feet.
Shivering in a late spring freeze,
genuflecting to an icy breeze,
they bravely bear
Mother Nature’s whims –
and to beauty -
all are hymns.


A brisk wind laboured, abated, died…
still pervaded all: silvered water, blue, sentinel flags
bulrushes proud and tall.
The bucolic stage was set and waiting –
waiting for a star?
Dust-motes danced in golden sunbeams –
spotlights from afar.
Then, swift and straight – like an artist’s arrow,
a technicoloured flash thro’ the evergreens –
there appeared a handsome, feathered, fellow,
the like of which I had never seen.
Centre-stage, he speared his lunch –
sole performer – how deft his wings!
Then almost with the speed of light…
rose into the sky – pulled by invisible strings?
Lulled into a happy stupor –
near drunk on nature’s heady sights –
I mused on kingfisher’s prowess, beauty
until the darkening shades of night.


Long ago when a gentleman
took a lady for his wedded wife,
he was pretty sure
that her allure
didn’t come from a surgeon’s knife.
Nowadays who knows
what pert little nose
didn’t start life like Captain Hook’s?
And what of that bosom, so plump?
Or that neat little rump?
And all manner of other looks?
So gentlemen beware and have a jolly good look
before buying the ring
saying “I do!”
and signing the Registrar’s book.