Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Of Almost-Snow



An air of expectancy groans through nature's bare bones today...
 ...as if one can almost hear Old Man Winter's approach!
Lovers of  'brooding landscapes' better take a long, last look according to the weather-forecast


The air is poked with bare oak branch
And stoked with ‘almost snow’
Across the yard brittle leaves dance
In footloose tic-tac-toe

The land is primed for white that spills
To deck the halls brown-gray
Glad to be clad in sledding-hills
And snow angels at play

The far-off ridge broods blue and bare
It lures the poet’s gaze
To touch the tremble in its stare
And clutch time’s ebbing ways

The earth is like a tambourine
Where tuneless jingles shake
The wind, a minstrel, wild and green
Rattles the balsam brake

…and from each window eager-eyed
A world of children wait
To greet the whirling, twirling tide
As winter opes its gate

© Janet Martin

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