Color Me Winter

 

A Child’s Snow

Posted on February 28, 2012by apronheadlilly

Tractor treads in fresh white snow,
perfect form with heel and toe.
Angels fallen, rise again,
thoughtless sins of little men.
Fence posts peeking, winter’s quilt,
woven cold with crystal silk.
Words in vapor down the hill,
carve a path both loud and still.

More Bare Bones

There is something in the sparseness--
the sparse stretching to the sky,
the intertwining, community of bare bones,
waiting for green buds and fancy dresses.
Spare looks like loss,
but faith sees the bloom and fruit of what will be
in time.
Hope dresses bones in breezy longing.

The Bare Bones of Winter

The bare bones
witchy webbed against fomenting skies,
dormant
with barely a breathy promise of life:
Is your haunting silhouette a shadowy blight or a prayer upraised for spring?

Winter White

This is a photo shot on film and scanned, so does have a bit of a grainy feel.  But I love it.

It was taken at the corner of my baby sister and brother-in-law's farmhouse in Ontario in a windy snow storm.  This is before they sold the farm and moved closer to the city to be yuppies.  :-)  We were all hurrying to get into the house, but the landscape was calling me.

First Breathings

I would abandon my boring blue skies

for this--first breath of winter.

Let the sun beat the desert floor another day;

for now, let this crystalline colored breath and cheek plumming wind

chase me home to hot chocolate or fresh free trade coffee.

The wind at my back, my bike geared up, dog at the trot,

all senses tingling at this frosty pleasure.