Winter Wren

Cold air ghost filled,
leaf falling, light catching,
keening mouths moth the trees
and witch a darkening earth to sleep.

Twilight in the here and now,
Wren dances from this world to another,
a mason bee at home in her hollow,
snug and safe in the sister huddle

as a prowl of bad weather claws her demesne
like Christ the Tiger come to call
all willing sinners to account.

Life resisting death with downy warmth
beneath the knuckled hand of night,
this weighty world compressed to breath
to feathers, hope and hollow bone.

She whispers sister secrets of hedgerow, whitethorn, bramble,
where mysteries and miracles are served as daily bread,
where a polity of older gods hold court,
where every tiny creature has their worth.

Then wildflowers, apple blossom, giddy lambs, nursery fields,

and hawks forever waiting in the blind.

Micks' poems have been rejected by some of the finest magazines and journals around, some have also been nominated for The Forward Prize, UK (Best Individual poem) and The Pushcart Prize, USA. His debut collection "Deep Fried Unicorn" was published by Rebel Poetry Ireland in 2014 and his current collection "The Love Poetry of Judas Iscariot" is published by Dionysia Press UK. He likes to do wild and reckless things with his hair while he still can.