RSS Feed

Late Winter

written from a word list prompt at The Sunday Whirl

the cold blue blood of the sky
rises over bare fields, edged with ice
rises over us, teeth clenched against
one more day of winter. Birds try again
to shatter February with beaks,
with songs that crescendo over mornings
of every thing rattling in the wind.
Only the bare trees sense it—
their long deep bodies remember
the electric green jolt of spring.
Still invisible to humans, trees know the secret
slow as honey, what rises through their roots

One response »

  1. Oh, I can feel that late February day with ice edging the fields and the trees beginning to stir down deep. Nice job!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

%d bloggers like this: