Beneath fresh snow
clean covers for forgotten tasks
a rest for thought as I decipher
a panic of birds for bread.
As a wind-blown this or that
makes lines like Picasso;
draws-in the eye then passions see:
a curve like a woman’s hip,
a vagrant stick paints
the ridge of her lip. I smile
as fluttered leaf shadows
as fluttered leaf shadows
make a butterfly like passion eyes;
lifts now and swirls among a crystal flurry.
Winter is a song of windy cedars
lean and brush, then hush for tympany
of rolling trash cans(--)within in
emptiness whispered words of love(--)
all rise to my eyes- a squint and blur
glad for chill sun, stillness between
gusts; pauses that uncurl and fill with
wishes for warm touches…
4 comments:
it's such a wonderful mixture or blend of nature's twists - cold, gusts of wind -with inner reflections of the outer world, showing the craving of the soul and heart.. beautiful, thank you for the pleasure!
beautiful imagery, almost a sensual feel to it. You make me rethink my position on winter. Linda
Linda
winter timeis most of all our time, happiness warms the cold. Thank you....H
Maryna
Sometimes we use words but really paint the scene... thank you :-) ...H
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