Some Short Winter Poems, Less the Short Winter
In winter's cold depths stalact-ice blooms from relics of a warm summer life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's Almost Time.
Winter gasps it last breath in the puddles of rain, that melt the smothering white that imprisons me. The sun peeks reluctantly from behind receeding clouds, giving me a taste of what's to come soon. Tulips that rival even the finest lover, peek from the brown skin of the earth, testing the air like fingers daring the cold. Spring will come bouncing in like the rabbit that just dashed across my path, and I will bask in the April
that May last until June.
Delicate snowflakes feather my skin like your winter kiss, with chills and sweet thrills.
Quick Grab A Driveway Stake.
Minus seventeen, cold leeches in, sucking warmth, it's Winter's vampire. ^
Basking in the comfort Of An old friend.
The sun has always been there, it warmed my toddler flesh fresh in the dawn of my life, when adrenaline coursed through my veins, as I danced exuberant in bright meadows. It brightened my first kiss, that awkward bumbling attempt with a red haired girl whose lips were even hotter. It burned like a torch, when I cremated my mother, slipping beneath the clouds, almost in a sign of respect as I left with her ashes. It melts my winters into crocuses, across the art palette of my earth, and the artist in me smiles, as it brushes my shoulders Soon it will soothe my arthritic limbs, like some heavenly sauna. as I sit, rocking and gazing at the dust motes,
dancing like toddlers, i n the warm beams of its gleams. When it cast long shadows over my headstone, my bones will settle with much regret at it's absence.
© 2010 Matthew Frederick Blowers III