The Difference of Winter- a poem

~ rabbitpatchdiary.com

It was not winter til the north wind blew.

 unfastening leaves and branches too. 

Revealing the secrets of spring long passed-

Songbird dwellings now known at last.

The chill of winter does bruise the reed,

 yet tenderly scatters its’ tiny seed.                                                                                               

Blackbirds pepper up the sky

 for they know winter cold is nigh.

Gardens look like empty rooms                                                                                                     

when void of anything that blooms,                                                                                             

and  a pasture , like a vacant lot,                                                                                                   

without the colt to dance a trot. 

The old oak stands with barren bough                                                                                           

fields lie untended by man and plow-                                                                                         

Behold the frozen ponds and lakes-                                                                                               

Oh, what a difference, winter makes! 

Happy Winter, love Michele

15 thoughts on “The Difference of Winter- a poem”

  8. Happy Winter to you too Michele. Very cool rhythmic poem. I’ve never disliked winter because I see it as time of preparation. After reading your poem, I actually appreciate it all the more. Although the earth is getting ready for yet another change, all that lives above and below the ground is experiencing winter’s stillness.

    Oh how I wish we could all have more opportunities to be still for a while, nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to feel, to just be, quietly preparing for what comes next!

    Liked by 1 person

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  10. “The chill of winter does bruise the reed,
    yet tenderly scatters its’ tiny seed.”

    A metaphor for life.
    I shall tuck this one in my heart, if I may.

    Happy Winter, Michele.

    Paz

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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