WREN’S SONG
Snow flurries flutter
As winter wrens mutter
In a wood that’s bare
Of little seed to spare
Old man winter’s come
Cold, cold weather’s home
Spring’s horizon dare
Not for all, for some
snow
All posts tagged snow
BLUE JAY
If on a winter day
With little to say
You could just defend
And feed a friend
A Blue, Blue Jay
HUNGER CAME
Twenty-four varieties ornament the wood
The seed they devour barely stood
As Titan bears down, accumulating
The Songbirds sing, non-culminating
A following dries snow; and icy caveat
The Dove coos, the Blackbirds have it
As the offered seeds diminish
The Blackbirds take flight, finish
With grains replenished on the plate
Cardinals return sans Blackbirds fate
Four and twenty varieties do coexist
Thrush fight among themselves, and hist
As they return through the sprinkling mist
Reaching branches laced with confection, white
The carpet below leaves the ground out of sight
If the frenzy of feeding is indication
Soon to be under heavy accumulation
Twenty-four varieties do ornament the wood
Four and twenty varieties in search of food
AN EVE FEBRUARY
As the sun shines on the snow laden branches of the wood, the confectionary icing laden twigs reach towards me like veiny fingers vying for my attention as we prepare for another bout of frozen precipitation on the morrow…
SOLACE
The fervent Full Moon
Stares through naked wood
Winter solstice come soon
Blackened sky understood
Illustrious moon
Backlighting the copse
Till dawn, the boon
Soon on the ropes
Bright shining orb
Sinking to the west
The light we absorb
Understood vest
Silvery Satellite
Reflects from carpets of snow
Silver-gray white
Comforting glow
SNOW
Snow arrives with a quiet voice
Snow piles up beyond a choice
Each flake, unique, a flittering
Less the cheep of birds a chittering
A canopy of white does silence now
Precipitates peace with pure avow
And shepherds perfectly a poise
Less the cacophony of the noise
Snow arrives luminous to glisten
Pause, take breath… and listen…
A MASK OF SNOW
It is still green
Remains to be seen
If this will be
The winter we’ll see
A mask of snow, keen.
SPRING ZING
The wood is white
To spring a sight
Comfort day wish
Artists go fish
Heavy and wet
Mid March bet
Forecasters drone
Safe home alone
Bird on a branch
Unfrozen in stance
Surrounded by icing
Temperature dicing
The wood now is flocked
The bird’s head is cocked
Winged, swooped away
For some eave to stay
Floating wafting
Softly ofting
Take what’s in store
The map says there’s more.
g,
A WINTER’S TALE
Another dusting of confectioner’s glaze
Accoutrement to travelers daze
The holly’s frosting, icing pure
To warn careful touring, to be sure.
It arrived overnight
Soft delicate and white
Temperatures secure
Perhaps tomorrow there’s more.
The groundhog may
See his shadow today
If he does or not
We’ll take what we’ve lot.
February’s weather romance
We know in advance.
Some stay at home
Other’s left alone.
Winters will come
For all; not for some.
The pale it is near
Count them as dear.
FIFTEEN DEGREES
Staring into the cold
Gelid air streams in bold
Rippled icicles form
But less than adorn
Red headed woodpeckers scorn.
Holly tree verdant
Against the mantle of white
Icy streams abundant
A wintery sight
The cloudless sky lending
To this bane bitter bite.
A well lighted wood
Promises temperatures should
Rise within hours
Lest there be new snow showers.
It is fifteen degrees
As temperatures freeze
Arctic air pushing and squeezing
Prediction not above freezing.
And out to the west
The forecast does jest
More snow on the way
Not tomorrow, today.
