Keep your eye upon the clues:
the words unconsciously you drop
provide the where’s and why’s and who’s
that lie beneath, above the top.
Below it now lies Harold Pinter,
who found all words that lie below
the top in silence that, like winter,
is the source of melted snow.
In the depths of winter’s mid,
lies the warmth of spring’s renewal,
a problem for this British Yid,
whose loyalty became a duel.
The inspiration for the first quatrain of this poem was Harold Pinter, but I have lost the source. The second and third quatrains were written on the day his death was announced, the deep midwinter day of December 25th.