Poems, I think, are best read singly. One of the most successful poetry publishing projects in my lifetime was Poems on the Underground. Just one short poem to be read while travelling and remembered later.

This page aims to be like that, one poem at a time, each taking the place of the one before, like stops on the Underground.

Winter Songs

Day dawns like an ebb tide
On the horizon’s distant shore
Summer’s gone and harvest’s home
And all that’s left is winter’s store

Summer’s truth has been denied
Autumn’s mystery laid bare
Fire and air no longer feed
The furnace of the dying year

Winter’s world lies underground
Winter’s thoughts run deep
Thinking but keeping its thoughts to itself
In its wintry sleep

Winter doesn’t waste its breath
Or give much away
Winter’s world is black and white
Nothing more to say

Winter’s words are cold but clear
Their meaning rings true
Winter writes on field and sky
A page torn in two

Winter left a note behind
A note without words
Just an empty page with the
Signature of birds

The late rose that burns on a winter’s day
Ignites the fuse of spring
Mistletoe, cherry and jasmine catch fire
Flames dance, flowers sing

Neil Rathmell

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