Winter Picnic-Table

For now

The birds may feed

Upon some drifting seed

That lodges there

Where ice and snow

And cold winds blow

Instead of sunbeams fair

For now

No bare or flip-flop feet

Will pause to rest a bit

No peanut-butter

And jam sandwiches

Enjoyed slow

As we sit

To languish in the high noon sun

Or sample summer-fare

Of garden-goodness

Freshly-picked

In sassafrass-sweet air

And for now we do not gather

At the supper-hour of day

To exchange love-laughing stories

Where the dappled shadows splay

Or to listen to the jortle

Of the robin and the lark

Sharing watermelon moments

Letting light slip into dark

No,

For now

We let warm memories

And echoes soft re-play

Over winter’s picnic table

Spring is not

Too

Far

Away

© Janet Martin

Cold anyone?
A little warm-up:)