When winter does wrestle death

When winter does wrestle death
Snow lies falling with petals bereft
Her mantle a meadow white lily
Uprooting stars in heavens pity.

Veils of fine silk are spun to order
Wheeling moths circle and flutter.
Ferries-wheeled across the boarder
Our souls are curdled in god's butter.

When winter does wrestle death
No one's heart did feel bereft
Even the old drew a second breath.

poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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