By Pavel Chichikov
My heart's delight has nothing in it
A belt drawn tightly round a shade
Elms decaying grow within it
Flourishing as God first made
Mottled sparrows hopping first
Then a roost of pigeons flying
Birds might never quench their thirst
If rain from heaven stopped complying
Ice in weeping summer blocks
Shouldered up in iron tongs
Ice against the window knocks
Winter's single note prolonged
Slowly then in summer souls
Finish dapples turning brown
Antlers swell within the poll
Rise in rutting, clack and wound
End my ending, there beginning
Since my April start again
Where's the child who starts by sinning
Heart of elm will not defend?
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)