Yesterday’s re-reading of John Donne’s A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day inspired me to write this related piece.

Lucy

(after John Donne)

The year comes to a glum end.

We wake up go to work come home—

all in the dark—

in a world spared a wearied sun,

lying long abed.

 

Trees are miserably stripped of life & leaves;

earth is barren and hard to dig.

Vitality plumps herself down

at the foot of a bedsit bed & drinks

gin to forget and deepen her gloom.

 

The lover’s skip in her step

will come again come spring;

ruined but reborn.

She has no chlorophyll in her skin

or veins to tide her through the year;

 

survives under the influence of lesser stars

& brief affairs on summer hols.

“When Adam delved & Eve span,

who was then a gentle man?”

is her lullaby and sing-a-long.