For five days, they say,
Highs will be above freezing.
Snow will melt, then freeze at night,
And in the dark morning, black ice will be teasing.
(Winter’s almost two-thirds gone,
If you’re meteorological,
Or only one-third gone,
If you’re astronomical.
It all depends on your perspective.)
We crossed a bridge over the river.
Partly frozen, layers of ice and snow.
The paralyzed water, waiting for sunlight
To let the torrents flow.
We put our Christmas decorations away.
It’s good to work in the chilly sun.
You come awake — each breath you take
Brings life and health, and a little wheezing.
I fill the bird feeders full of seeds –
The birds have needs.
From bare branches they fly and feed;
Chipmunks and squirrels get the fallen seed.
I go for a walk in the sunny afternoon.
I see a single robin, NOT singing a tune.
For many months I have not seen them,
Waiting for the sun to free them.
Twelve inches of snow from two weeks ago
Have mostly melted, but the wind is cold.
I pull up my hood, and the sun feels good.
It’s actually pleasant, amazingly.
Geese have left their droppings
On sidewalk and street,
And left their footprints in the snow.
Rabbits and deer make their tracks complete.
People are out, walking in the sun,
Or being walked by their dogs.
I come inside, where it’s pleasantly warm,
And sit by the fire of fake logs.
Wearing my sweaters more often now;
They’re saying it will freeze, somehow.
Most trees, still green,
Don’t look like winter yet.
Soybeans were harvested this week.
Green machine giants came down the road
Bearing their load
Before the cold could harm them.
How did the farmers do this year?
The water needed rarely appeared.
Still, farmers persist;
They’re made of tough stuff.
In my own garden, I cleared the weeds.
I turned the soil, and added more.
I made a row with my trusty hoe,
And buried garlic cloves, row by row.
Like flower bulbs, the garlic bulbs live
Through winter’s cold
And are so bold to reproduce
And give us food (in July).
No, most trees are not orange yet.
Warm days might return for a bit.
But soon, the rain of leaves will fall
And rabbits in their cozy dens
Will snuggle under snow’s blanket.
Today I’ll soak myself in sun,
To store it up for colder days,
To build up light, and warmth, and ease,
To keep refreshing summer breeze.
Today will be a time to rest;
A Sunday when I feel my best,
To store up mem’ries I can keep,
So I can calmly fall asleep.
Today is not the time to fret,
But put my hope in God and let
His peace and joy come fill my heart,
To give the week a blessed start.
When winter stretches out its hand,
I’ll reach within to mem’ries deep,
And bring out light, and warmth, and sun,
And pray the Lord does with me come.
I long to hear the ocean’s roar,
Or lakeside waves upon the shore,
The quiet lapping on the sand,
Sitting there, with book in hand.
I long to rest from life’s swift rush,
The stress and strain assailing us.
When sitting quietly near the sea,
A peace begins to rest on me.
It’s so eternal, never-ending,
Small chance that earth would soon be rending,
To swallow all this ocean’s waters —
Still here when we have sons or daughters.
The seashore now becomes my womb,
And could someday become my tomb.
But now it is my mother’s peace,
It’s rhythm giving sweet release.
Well, the air’s too wet,
I’m covered in sweat.
The chiggers are ‘bitin;
Soon there’ll be lightnin’.
But I’ve got food to eat,
A roof over my head,
Even have A/C,
And people who love me.
Well, the news is bad;
It’s makin’ me sad.
My back is in pain;
Might be goin’ insane.
But I’ve got good friends,
A garden to tend,
Cats who like to cuddle,
Rain enough for some puddles.
Well, I spilled the dinner,
Don’t seem to be a winner.
The grandbaby’s cryin’;
Life can be tryin’.
But there’s always a light;
Your smile is so bright.
We may not agree,
But you’re talkin’ with me!
Just heard the doctor’s verdict,
Says my blood pressure’s imperfect
Not to mention blood sugar,
Extra carbs in the cooker.
But I’ve got Jesus beside me;
There’s nothing can fright me.
Well, maybe things will,
But He’ll help me, until …
I can see through the night,
And hear music bright,
Be calm in the storm,
‘Til He brings me home.
[Another silly poem, and “first world” problem? Well, we need to laugh sometimes! Life can get a bit heavy. Blessings.]
Oh, I hate to wash dishes
But mama said I must.
But I hate to wash dishes;
I’d rather eat dust.
Oh, the dishwasher’s broken
Oh, what can I do?
There’s a pile a foot high
On the counter; it’s true.
Just put on some music
And sing my way through.
Dance to some verses
And tap to the tune.
Each verse that is sung,
The dishrag is wrung.
The clean pile gets higher
‘Til all of them done!
It’s a mistake
To compare ourselves to others.
That sin do not dare —
For joy it surely smothers.
Don’t look askance
At gifts you have been given.
Grow gratitude —
Let yourself be shriven.
Joy everywhere —
Our happiness, so be it.
God is alive,
If we will but see it.
Gone are the bright leaves of the fall,
And barren branches stand so tall,
The wind cuts through my meager clothes;
A bit of chill upon my nose.
The sky so dreary, and people weary,
But pink-tinged clouds at sunset shout
Of beauty gracing —
Silver-lined clouds lacing.
And still the air is not so cold.
But wintry temper’tures so bold
Will soon bring flurries and people hurrying
To still the chill within their souls.
These were written as an assignment for a poetry class. Assignment: Write a few short poems in the same “form.” You can pick an object, and write about what the object thinks of itself. (Regarding form, I’m not sure what “form” these are, or even if they’re in the same “form.”) The second vignette is not really about an object.
THE CLOCK
I am the clock
That sits and ticks
And gives you fits
When buzzing, ringing,
The new day bringing.
THE POETRY TEACHER
He said to write a poem.
I thought I’d like to show ‘im.
It’s just my pride
That makes me want to hide.
THE CAT
As I sit on the sill
It’s really a thrill
To watch the birds —
Or is it absurd?
THE CHAIR
Four legs I have, and on a plateau
Sit some of the people whom I know —
Or don’t —
But perhaps it’s kind
To let a person sit a while.
THE TREE
I stand so still
Except in wind;
The birds make me their home.
And rabbits dwell
‘Neath branches low
My arms protect them well.
clarakatalin 