January Jasmine

It sweeps across the deeps of spring

And dross of autumn’s frill

It keeps the seed a cradled Thing

While winter wields its will

White, white its stillness of the night

White gold its cold, cold morn

White crystal noon, blue-white twilight

White broods on woods leaf-lorn

Each window is a picture frame

As heaven spills its stars

Where Masterpieces without name

Are ladled from cloud-jars

The Best and Worst of earth immersed

In perfect purity

The sweat of farmers reimbursed

With fireside luxury

…and home is sweeter, is it not

Than in June’s green-spun tide

Where porch and kitchen-beacons dot

Earth’s spotless countryside

…as January’s jasmine spills

A sparkling-starlet sea

To rooftop-gardens, fields and hills

In wordless poetry

© Janet Martin

 Recently the clouds keep dropping heap upon heap of these January 'blooms'...

My personal challenge was to write a January poem without using the word 'snow':)