Interim.
Interim.
Old man
Winter he
lingers,
with
icicle fingers
while Spring
gently wings her
way high
over trees
as she graces
the freeze
where young
buds soon
will be
unfurling
green leaves.
~~~\|/~~~~~~~~\|/~~~~~
Every Crocus
will lurch as
their fresh
tendrils search
beneath hard
frozen earth
for thier moment
of birth.
~\|/~~~\|/ ~~\|/~~~\|/
Their tiniest
shoots stretching
out restless roots
in eager pursuits
of thier soft
pastel suits
as the
snowfall dilutes.
~~\|/~\|/~\|/~\|/~\|/~\|/~
Though I'll
miss my
wood fires
as these chill
winds retire
past my chimney
spire in it's
burnt red
attire that
belches out
smoke from
the hard woods
I stoke,
Now it's sun
I desire
*
~~~~~~\|/~~~~~~
I am weary
of white
gleaming
endlessly bright,
diamond-like
in sunlight
till road dust
and exhaust,
spread thier
charcoal across
endless drifts
plows have tossed,
till the beauty
is lost.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All of this
I will trade
for a hammock
and shade,
watching Springs
grand parades
on my criss-crossed
rope braids.
Cabin fever
assails me,
bitter icy winds
jail me,
and the winter
sun pales me,
let green fields
cure what ails me.
\\\\\\\\\\\//////////\\\\\\\\\\\////////////
Let this
hiatus end,
bring back
my greatest friend,
melt what
Jack Frost
has penned,
as bright
tulips extend
thier most
bountiful blends.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Lord, bring Spring
hear my prayer,
with elation
I'll bear,
pitter-pattered
refrains,
endless
days filled
with rains
all those tears
skies will shed,
when old winter
falls dead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
