The Corner

Some Painted Scenes

Each segment of the year makes painted scenes,

Creating sonnets. Thin and icy greens,

Translucent, stuck in frigid air

Hold promises, stuck in a frozen stare,

And every edge that melts slips to transcend

The present, speaks in warming tones to send

Predictions of a lush and creeping green

That even now begins in rows, unseen,

Presaging jeweled summer. Colors burst,

Till I forget that even now they’re cursed,

Diminished by the narrowness of fall

And caught by frost, until the roundelay

Of scenes begins again — whirls seeds away.

— From the September 2, 2013 issue of National Review.

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