A Knot On Wood

• Gilbert Moffatt, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2010

A knot upon the branch there lies:
A twisted lump knurl that terrifies.
To sight it closer, one might note,
The feet, the eyes, the wings, the throat.
But not the sage's grisly face;
A sparrow, done in time and space.

Sits she silent, day by day,
By month, by Winters harrowed stay.
Her beak borne shut, her eyelids spread,
To hold to all, though nothing wed.
To taunt, to mock, to kindle flame,
To only sit there, scarce of blame.

She prays on time and feeds on years,
'Till naught be left, but save her tears,
Who prison her to where she stood,
A boil on earth, a knot on wood.