Winter, Oh my Winter
Winter, oh my winter,
Would earthlings revel in your cool fresh exhale,
if not for summer's hot air stifling and stale?
Would fields feel quenched by your bountiful snows,
if summer never came and scorched wind blown meadows?
Would lovers delight to cozy next to warm fires,
if July's heat decided not to expire?
Would busy-bodies be glad to hunker down for winter's nest,
if not for warm season's delirious dash, often too much?
Summer, oh my summer,
Would I dream of the warmth during your season,
if never had I suffered from wintry fingers frozen?
Would souls grasp the brilliance of your golden vibe,
if never were they dimmed under December’s gray sky?
Would artists applaud May, June, July’s forests aplenty,
if not for the cold season’s bare branches unending?
Would gardeners yearn for your glorious green groves,
without ever seeing them covered by blankets of snows?
Nightfall, oh my nightfall,
Would owls encounter twinkling under your starry show,
if daylight got stingy and never let go?
Would deer dally beneath your nocturnal light,
if never had they escaped perils during daytime’s fright?
Would natives sleep soundly under your soft moonbeams,
if the shimmers were cast over by endless sun streams?
Would crawly creatures frolic under your cool blackness,
if perpetual sunlight kept them from rest?
Daytime, oh my daytime,
Would birds chirp in celebration of your break of dawn,
if nocturnal night let the sun shine on and on?
Would flower petals unfold under your sunlit sky
if they weren't able to rest by the dim moonlight?
Would souls know how much your warmth feels merry,
if cold night never showed up to the contrary?
Would seekers worship your sun and scurry off to beaches,
if seashores skipped the cycles of nighttime sieges?
Lover, oh my lover,
Could I have known my deepest love for you more,
if your soul hadn't went home through heaven’s door?
Would our memories often carry my thoughts away,
if it had been His will for you to stay another day?
Would I cherish our years to this degree,
if you were still here to say more to me?
Could the cliché "absence makes the heart grow fonder",
now, possibly be any more profounder?
Dedicated to our Joseph joyfully watching over us from above . . .
A children's photo storybook verse by fossillady, aka Kathi L. Mirto
More Fossillady Photo Musings
© 2011 Kathi