So many, in spite of a blizzard
do not have the luxury of being 'snowed in'.
Although a lot of snowplows are temporarily parked
I did see one go past our house a little while ago...
rephrase-
I heard it. It was so white I couldn't see it!!
Thank-you to all the winter-heroes!
...and here?
Well, it looks like a day of unrushed ink,
coffee pot refills
a little oven lovin'...
birdie-watching
fire tending
and counting our blessings!
(don't you just love the word 'unrushed'💝)
When arbors drip with petal-plumes
When flowers frill earth’s living rooms
And gardens bob with breeze-kissed blooms
And bird trill fills the dawn
When landscapes white and silver-blue
Dazzle with diamonds made of dew
And green in every sheen and hue
We’ll know winter is gone
When woodlands shed their hoary locks
And robins strut in yellow socks
And brooks curl around glossy rocks
And dandelions beam
When hearths are dark and cold and bare
When days are bright and warm and fair
And we feel younger than we were
In winter’s summer-dream
Then we will look back and recall
The sweet-spent pieces of it all
The way intricate shadows fall
From The Painter’s brush
How chubby juncos thrill us so
How chickadees flit to and fro
The hieroglyphics carved in snow
Plush, pillow-billowed hush
Cheeks glowing with wind-kissed remains
The lure of fluffy fields and lanes
White-stucco woods and windowpanes
Snow-angels on the lawn
A slower-savored cup of tea
With old poets for company
And as far as the eye can see
Time tucked in featherdown
Landscape scenes framed in frosted matte
Snowman, suave in a black top hat
Bird-feeder drama tit-for-tat
Nature’s pure innocence
Beneath our feet the creak of cold
Above us, vaults of snowflake-gold
And all around the boundless mold
Of ageless resplendence
The creek asleep beneath a quilt
Of sequins, stars and glitter-gilt
The way the wind chases the silk
Of a lost bridal veil
The spartan art of barren tree
Naked, yet cloaked in modesty
The way the Artist helps us see
Each beautiful detail
…a paradise of unrushed ink
Where poets dare to sit and think
Perched on an intangible brink
Of Poem not get penned
Rousing rush of adrenaline
*When blizzards snow us snugly in
With our beloved kith and kin
And ink and paper friend
Let’s try to not want what is not
Where time grants treasures soon forgot
Beneath tick-tock’s tittle and jot
Each little day is drawn
Till arbors drip with petal-plumes
Till flowers frill earth’s living rooms
And gardens bob with breeze-kissed blooms
Because winter is gone
© Janet Martin
*Jim is just leaving the yard and hoping to make it home safely
then that line in the poem will be complete
🙏💖
(He just pulled in!)
Psalm 147:15-18
He sends his command to the earth;
his word runs swiftly.
16He spreads the snow like wool
and scatters the frost like ashes.
17He hurls down his hail like pebbles.
Who can withstand his icy blast?
18He sends his word and melts them;
he stirs up his breezes, and the waters flow.
💓