Where art thou, o Spring!

Freezing Hot by Sunita Khedekar

Our spring colors are grey.

And white. And mud. There!

A flash of blue. Blue jay!

 

March roared in like a lion.

And stayed. Prowling. Roar!

Cold. Snow. Rain. No spring!

 

Colors washed, faded, to grey.

Our hearts stay warm. Inside!

Rich reds, blues. Purple. Green!

 

We so long for green. For color.

Sending love. Up. up. UP!

Spring, come back, we miss you!

 

Red tail lights under the Trickster Moon.

Coyote laughing. Winter’s last days.

Geese fly ’round in vain. No water here!

 

Spring, like our hearts, awaits the time.

The time to fly. To bloom. To rise!

Winter holds on tight. Too tight!

 

Windows stay shuttered. Blind.

I won’t watch it snow again. AGAIN!

Sleet mimics rain. So cruel a tease.

 

A patch of last year’s grass, dead green.

We stare at it. Does it get bigger? Yet?

Even the horses lust for it. Ache.

 

I’d trade this piled high white and grey.

Trade it for warm brown. Dusty hues.

Colored pencils become a bouquet.

 

Red hearts rising from chimneys dark.

Windows closed against the cold.

Spring, we are waiting. Come! Come!

 

Grace has us working with the lovely, and inspiring art of Sunita, and she did have us talking about spring and colors. Well. WELL! Our spring so far has been 50 shades of grey, and we are lusting for something more. Something green. Something muddy. Something NOT snow. NOT white. NOT grey. Drifts shrink too slowly and the warmth is more a tease than something deeper. I’m sure my poetic counterparts have brighter spring words for you, why don’t you head over and check them out?

http://dversepoets.com/2014/03/18/poetics/

someTHING special

Ginger Bread_001

 

Grandma hand wrote each recipe.

She changed them each time too.

Her notes scratched in margins.

Cookbooks were never safe!

My mother typed this, she likes

the tidy neatness of typing.

And yet she added the hand

notes as in my Grandma’s

version. History and heritage

dual treats always so sweet.

 

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SomeTHING blowy. SomeTHING snowy.

Drifts bury fences. Cows don’t care.

No feed near them drifts anyway.

SomeTHING blowy. SomeTHING snowy.

Winter your welcome is long worn out.

I’m tired of walking through deep snow.

It WAS warmer today. That is someTHING.

SomeTHING to be thankful for.

Spring will break your hold upon us.

That is someTHING to look forward to.

Until then, snow falls, and blows.

Tracks fill and drifts rise. Rise! RISE!

Snow, like God’s EtchaSketch blows everyTHING

into a flat white canvas. Tracks and prints.

Only room for sunlight and shadows.

Victoria has us writing about THINGS today for Meeting At The Bar over at the dVerse Pub. So far my THINGS have been Granda’s recipe and the snow. Enjoy!

Outside my window

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Outside my window winter lingers long.

Birds eat and rest, fluff and bring me song.

Outside my window the wind blows strong.

We stay inside, warm and safe where we belong.

Outside my window adventures and chores come along.

We bundle up and brace ourselves – oh be strong!

Outside my window a warm day temps invisible long.

We dress up and head outside to laugh to the wind song.

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th Charge the batteries, and get the quad going strong.

Tie the ropes to to the hood, hold on boys, we gone!

Charge the batteries, and get yourself going along.

Roll in the snow, dance in the drifts and sing a fun song.

Charge the batteries, and get past the windows long.

Get outside and find out where in the winter we can belong.

Charge the batteries, the sun is hiding but warmth is on!

Wind may blow but cheeks will glow, we love this winter song.

Charge the batteries, get fired up to play along.

We are gonna be wet and cold and happy, c’mon!

I’m hosting at dVerse for #Poetics, and we are writing about what we see outside our windows. I’m late linking up due to technical difficulties last night, and the temptation of a warm day to play outside today! 🙂 Forgive me for being tardy, I’ll be by to visit your posts. Thank you for coming to visit mine!