the frozen marsh
receives us with a cold shoulder
and a stilled silence
which breaks only with the sorrowful
call of a blue-black crow
Frozen
Tag Archives: winter
Taste of Winter
I walked in the snow with the pup at my side.
Running my hand across the gate impulsively,
I licked the snow on my knitted mitten–
surprised to recognize the distinctive
yarny taste of winter.
Evidence
Your tiny tracks
play hide and seek with the winter wind.
They appear before my own prints
and are swept away from behind, made invisible.
I wonder at the significance of this–
Picking you up, I climb the
steep steps slowly one by one.
Winter on the River
This monochromatic scene stares at me
for weeks on end in the deep winter.
And although I find it beautiful and serene,
what I wouldn’t do to see a ruby red poppy
jutting out defiantly from the snows.
River Ice
Your soft, flowing, frigid blankets
float softly on the river.
Frightened at how dangerously hypnotic
the spell can be, I step silently
away from the river’s edge.
Wednesday Morning
Morning daydreams chase the falling snow
in swirls of good intentions and solid ambitions–
with a sprinkling of old books, soft music and
cups of hot, honeyed tea, I settle down to
work with the pup at my feet.
Winter Thoughts
Thoughts in winter stumble with
a stop-action rhythm
both jarring and comforting.
With hard edges and delicate skeletons,
they push to the forefront of consciousness;
greedy, needy and completely camouflaged
in the light of the cold January sky.
This moment: 9 am driving the kids to school today
This Moment inspired by Amanda Blake Soule at soulemama.com
A love of snow
not for skiing
or for shoveling,
not for driving
or for boarding,
but for dreaming
and for steaming
river waters–
for crunching
beneath boots
and napping deeply
on sycamore roots–
for kissing long lashes
and drifting softly
as crystal ashes
