issue 23 > poetry > court

No season has a solitary note —
Its music may be frivolous or solemn,
Its tempi often change. A summer’s tone

Lifts ripieno from a row of melons.
Where winter’s whingeing horn has whip and thraw
Its music may be glittering or solemn

But ever likely to inflect its wrath
Over the skin of hoarfrost and of rime.
Winter’s whingeing horn has whip and thraw —

It falls upon the autumn’s frozen mire.
Let fulsome gourds in windrows rattle warts
Against the skin of hoarfrost and of rime

Where lesser lives go rustling in the straw
And woodwinds interweave sottos and fortes.
Let fulsome gourds in windrows rattle warts —

One day we’ll hear the pipers of the forest
And woodwinds interweave sottos and fortes.
No season has a solitary note,
Its tempi often change a summer’s tone.






Also by Wesli Court:

Cousin Josephine