Some Short Winter Poems, Less the Short Winter

Hibernation.

In winter's cold depths

stalact-ice blooms from relics

of a warm summer life.

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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.

Winter Embraces.

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.