Against Winter’s pull
pines stand strong; ice drums on roof –
rhythmic ovation
Tag: winter
Foreboding
Soon, Winter will seal decay
beneath snowy banks
and we’ll plant ourselves
hearth side, aiming for fortitude
I shall middle myself amid
books and paints, soldier
through the desolation,
mourn for Summer’s loss.
(Image my own)
December
Moody, these December skies
brooding chill interrupted
by sun’s sudden emergence
To hibernate, or brace
the wind; stiffen protectively
or inhale invigoration
Caution guides my steps
intimate with wintry passages
acknowledging that I am December…
(Image my own)
Seasonal Defiance
Cast my shadow over white banks
assert presence: proud, defiant
Will find beauty in deserted places
and colour in the monochrome
Haunted by a Winter state of mind
resolved to stretch despite chill.
(Image my creation)
Robin’s Absence
Robin is absent
Winter’s silence
inviting retreat
Children embrace
snow-filled adventures
while I evade spills
Window watching
fluctuations, waiting
for the harbinger’s return.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Sky Language
To the west, a patch of electric blue
while Eastern clouds tumble grey
With each glance, sky language
alters, as if heaven re-examines
mood – intermittently snows
then explodes in flash of vermillion.
(Image my own)
Rain
Rain has returned
Winter’s fickle nature
overturning hope
I cower beneath
bedsheets, body
on fire – await
an impulse greater
than this pain –
creativity the antidote.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.
Winter Interlude
Winter donned
her finest lace
today,
shimmered beneath
peacock blues
Despite a sullen
arousal, the dull
thud of worry
hovering
appreciation
lightened the mood
(For Eugi’s Weekly Challenge: Winter. Photo my own.)
Delay
Robin’s melody bait
for this weary soul –
I hear promise
but nature is fickle
Winter renews onslaught
mocks any hope –
Solution to melancholy
once again delayed.
(Image from personal collection)
Rapture
Odd, this gift of solitude. Perched canal side, I affirm my connection to the earth, and offer thanks. Late afternoon sun casts a glow on the foliage across the way, lighting up the mirror-still water. Vibrant reflections.
Two winters ago, I fought to breathe as temperatures fell below zero. Impassible walkways trapped me indoors. Depression fought for possession. Hope struggles in imposed isolation.
“There are no absolutes in life,” a professor once told me, and I think of that now –
how just when it feels as if one sentence has been handed down, sealed, an opening appears. I am fortunate, savour the moment.
Heron’s watchful stride
invites reflection, respect –
Winter’s solitude.
(Rapture first appeared here February 2019. I offer an edited version here.
One Woman's Quest 