Shadows On A Wall Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Unreal winter beat
From its dark untouched root
Icily water not freed
From blackness fruit
Yesterday came suddenly
Pouring down the rain
Some ways are never free
In the frozen strain

Widening the gab
Of the coming sun
Making new trap
With its weaving spun
Of seeds fate
And arctic river
Splattering debate
They will deliver

Unreal bleak deed
And shadows on a wall
Between the lines read
Each its call
Run run time’s horse
Go your distance
Each mountain course
In its snow trance