photo of withered grass

Winter Mind #dVerse

Oh, it’s been awhile (again!). And writing poetry when you haven’t written poetry in a while is like going to the dentist for a root canal. Anyway. Thank you to Lisa for this thought-provoking post on dVerse. I am happy to take part–you know, after the swelling went down. 😉

I have used both fringe and edge in this poem.

photo of withered grass
Photo by Pille Kirsi on
Winter Mind

Snow clings to the edge of the field
a last vestige of winter in a year where 
winter stranded in hearts
daffodil flowered April
through sultry August
where summer embraces echoed
memories of a narrow distant past.

At the fringes of the field lie 
fragments of the lost
the cast aside
the dead
the breathing
our souls, goodness
a fraught stranger

seeking remission.

Sascha Darlington


  1. “winter stranded in hearts” and all of those things “at the fringes of the field” and the state of our souls, such an helpless dis-ease to exist within. I hope the cure comes soon. Glad you decided to go through the “root canal” to create this gem, Sascha.

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