Monday, February 25, 2019


The roof-tops touch the sky
The sky grazes the street
And in each snowflake skimming by
I sense the dance of feet

The pine-tree minstrel plays
Soft, spectral violins
And in the serenade it splays
I sense a song of grins

Winter’s rowdy rogues brawl
On plush and pulsing seams
Where, even in the thickest squall
I sense the rush of streams

This tantrum none can quell
Or tame the tempest's will
Yet on the wild and frigid fell
I sense a daffodil

White, rolls the countryside
White tolls most ev’rything
Still, even in this white-world wide
I sense the green of spring

© Janet Martin


Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!