the ivy head

Image

 

in the bare wood
the ivy-head shakes 
its shining
green-dark locks,
time from the boughs
and christmas’ 
timeless saturnalia
comes and goes,
the parties end,
the children grow,
the parents older,
the weight of memory
more burdensome,
while in the wood
the sacred bough
new-gathered,
cut, still undying,
taunts gawain
with its 
endless,
remorseless,
regeneration.

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