Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

supplies for winter

by Ross Newport

Just as the squirrel gathers his supplies for winter
I must prepare for the cold and bitter winds of rejection
The most fearsome winter could not ready a man for the cruelties delivered by the seasons of the heart
Nor could the most abundant spring allow him to anticipate the unrestricted beauties lavished upon the Sole by the smell of your hair
The chance meeting of our eyes
The exchange of a self-conscious smile
A lightning bolt of welcome confusion at the passing touch of your hand  
The boundaries of sensation are as those of creation, eternally expanding and continually surprising
Outside the window I watch a squirrel as he gathers his supplies for the winter
Must I prepare for the cold and bitter winds of rejection?

Added: 23.02.2010