Till Arbors Drip With Petal Plumes...

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.

💓