Elegy for Michael

by John J. Williamson
PenShells
Honorable Mention, February 2017
Judged by Sara Clancy


Here, in the glare of a lifeless moon,
beneath the dormant sycamores,

where snowdrops press to mock the snow,
and winter’s dropping thaw paints their petals white;
when seeds burgeon from hawberries

beneath the hedgerow as the town sleeps
through spring’s twitch, and badgers stretch in brittle
leaf litter; when the Earth’s tilt warms the air;

when the overflowing tarns release
a melody to the valleys and deepening lakes,
and blackbirds prepare to sing again,

I pray the sap will find a way
to fill these vacant veins of mine.