January Train
       

Fields of trees encased in frozen dew.
The sun a sullen distant heatless disc.
Tractors in a line retired between
cold foreground and an almost lost horizon.

A smattering of slick and sharded ponds.
Sheep, a flock of huffing moving heat.
Buckled fence all bent like broken teeth.
A swollen river eating up a field.

Through the Norman shock of Ballinasloe
the train rolls over sleepers eight years old.
Ivy covered chimney plays mute host
to a starving winter crow.

Beauty in a row of frozen trees.
Copse of colour muted by new fog.
Each drop a fractal gem escaping frost.

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Copyright © 2018 Colm Keegan All rights reserved
from Randomer
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission