Crimson Thoughts

I caught the scattered scarlet, fleeting drops
of Winter's bleeding, fro and to, and two
amidst the hush of snowy timbered tops.
The glimpse, as soon as seen, away and flew;
the wandering matches struck and casted quick
a flickering crimson brilliant blush- then just
as sudden, out the matches blew! As thick
the joy their presence carried, think the rust
behind and left, when taking wing, they fond
and thither wandered white the muted scape.

My silent steps could not compare. Despond
and pondering, walking Winter's shadowed shape,
my crimson thoughts of cherried chime and cheer
awoke the dearest distant spark of Spring-
the faintest thought of shaded brooks and clear,
the calm their fragile quiver beckoning brings.

Then breaking, bold and breaking cold the bite
of Winter blistering pulls away the drops
of scattered thought. Asunder too, the flight
of feathers midst the pine and timbered tops.