Kissing Gate

'When gorse is out of flower, kissing is out of season'

No gorse flowers today
A blanket of snow deadens any life passion
Ice winds blast limey stone
Memories of warm shallow seas
Frozen and petrified
Bracken spikes stab angrily at a blank horizon
Brown, brittle and broken, retreating and
Overwhelmed by the
expression-less,
care-less
sky
All life passion sapped and drained

Snow thickens steadily
And, cumulatively....
Fragile tear drop flakes of snow
Stop gate kissing.