This February morn let’s stroll the countryside, my sweet
Where dandelions laugh like bobbing sunbeams at our feet
Dawn rolls across yon shoreline in a tide of blush and gold
Let’s sit on morning’s front-row seat to watch time’s bloom
unfold
Let’s step beyond the shiver-sheen of shoveled walks and
such
The velveteen of spring’s first green is easy to the touch
And we are not as far-off as we were from flowered clime
Where poem is a schooner we can board without a dime
…and if we please, we’ll sail the turquoise seas of mid-July
Or afternoon of em’rald June spread beneath sapphire sky
Let’s lure from winter’s white on white an arbor,
rose-entwined
A bare-foot rendezvous through meadow lanes wild blue-strife
lined
This February morn is like a schooner summer-bound
Then hop on board and praise the Lord for gardens
underground
Where nothing stays the same for long above an undertow
That soon strips Old Man Winter’s song of words like ‘cold’
and ‘snow’
© Janet Martin
I'm not rushing winter, but every once in a while its nice to
climb aboard a poem-ship and sail to warmer scenes
...every once in a while its nice to be reminded
under winter-cold white waits summer-warm greens!
Instead of boots, flip-flops,
instead of parkas,
parks filled with laughter of children
going up, up, up to the blue sky in a swing!
