Monday, February 23, 2015

It's Winter






Last summer I wrote It's Summer. 


   

This morning I needed to dig for the silver-lining in this long cold-snap...because It's Winter

It’s winter and the world that curled like kittens at our feet
Is wrapped in satin ribbon; chiaroscuro unmarred
The trees that sighed with summer-song lie silent on the street
Where each outline is still-life like a blue and white postcard

The lays that lush and languid fell in corridors plush green
As sparked imagination strummed the sun-sweet afternoons
Are b-r-r-r-ittle, b-r-r-r-usque and b-r-r-r-umal; minuets steel-tongued and keen
Its dancers bundled thick against astringent, surly tunes

That bivouac once laden with petal-perfume of flow’rs
Is sparse; a barren thoroughfare save for the gale that broods
Before it breaks the vault that holds a sea of sequin stars
They tumble to the outstretched arms of hill, hollow and woods

…and on the slope that holds our hope of daisy-dappled joys
Or picnics on the quilt that sleeps in closet-quietness
The air is drenched with shrieks as sleds spill jolly girls and boys
Where winter is a wonderland of snow-white happiness

© Janet Martin




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