Category: Winter/ Cold
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january haiku
feathered friends shiver store bought seed suspended from tree bird feeder café 1-18-26
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Sacrifice
All season long Winter prepares for Spring, pushes stubborn leaves from their perch so new ones have a place to grow. Some fall on grass, some on moss, some on naked ground, and some fall into the fire. They sizzle for a moment before they’re gone. The others will be pushed to the curb for…
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For lack of sunlight
the tree in our yard no longer green rains gold from the sky seesawing back and forth on its way to ground beautiful in the moment it’s not dead only changed awaits transition leaves turn palms up supplicate the wind to carry it away 11-20-25
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Opposites attract
Cold air cradles tropical moisture in its arms, drums rain on our roof, lolls us to sleep, while pine cones lose their grip, and fall to ground. I invite you to walk with me between puddles, we will pray for acceptance of cold wet days that glow moss green, again. 10-12-25
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after the snowcalypse haiku
Outside my window Sun melts last patches of snow I’m okay with that 1-25-25
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Winter’s day
Between shadows, light reflects on dead leaves, sun warms my back. A January wind cools my face, pushes its way past my scarf and down the front of my shirt. I zip my jacket as high as it will go, but it it is too late. I retreat to house, fill a bowl with tuna…
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Ice houses
Who cut the last ice block from the river before compressors and Freon made him obsolete? Did he find a new career or blame it on someone else, sulk among relics and try to turn back time? What of the saws, the wagons, the horses and ice houses half buried in the sod? Move to…
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Carolina rain
as the world turned round to light rain stopped falling one percentage point from starting up again tickles bare skin lone mushroom rises from brown leaves flowers shed petals moss begins antheridium dance lichen turns golden something eats the tree in our front yard from inside out mother would have enjoyed winter in a Carolina…
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Fourteen lines
Poem written for a workshop I host; the prompt was Nature: Because I refuse to count my beats And play with rhyming schemes These fourteen lines will never be A fucking sonnet nature poem Carolina wren song ascends Clear notes welcome in the day Dew sparkles during morning prayer Soon it may become ice crystal…
My husband's poetry 