winter

PAD 2019 – Day 25

/ mannixk / Leave a comment

I liked today’s NaPoWriMo suggestion to write a season-specific poem engaging all five senses and using a rhetorical question. I decided to blend it with the Poetic Asides call for an “exile” poem.

Exiling Winter

 

Why is it so difficult to banish?

That stubborn cold that burrows down to the bone,

pinch felt on the skin when you dare to step outside uncovered.

The look of winter remains long after spring has made its calendar declaration.

Gaunt branches poking at cloudy skies, the scent of fetid leaves in murky melt puddles.

Stubborn islands of snow and ice in the shadowy parts of a yard imploring a seasonal shift.

Guardian birds who’ve overseen winter’s term sing songs of eviction and welcome.

Leaveleave Leaveleave calls the chickadee. Come Come Come rallies the crow.

We munch sweet greenhouse carrots, savour tangy lemons imported from hot places.

Ingest what we desire  — freshness, tenderness, growth. Forced internal blooming

to overtake a season of still grey.

 

 

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November PAD – Day 19

/ mannixk / 1 Comment

Today’s prompt called for an “abundance” poem. Since it’s been winter for weeks where I live, I was immediately reminded of the abundance of snow. By January, I will surely be sick of it. But for now I can still appreciate the beauty.

19.

If there’s a distinction between an abundance, and too much, I cannot find it in this snow. It’s been going since yesterday, lazy tufts of cotton white, falling, falling, falling. It’s making me lazy too, my limbs soft but heavy as I ready myself for bed. How many hours did I spend today just watching it meander and puff? Top each fence post with a rounded white cap. Sugar coat the branches of the fir tree — the one the original owners of this house told us they planted the week they moved in. Our street, normally quiet, has been even more so today. The snow covered sidewalk unmarred, the road branded with the intentions of only a few passing cars. Everything is softened with the blessing of snow. Even the biting wind has been hushed by the lullaby.