Poetry | Stories | Photography
Snowflakes and Sunflowers
My Winter’s Heart.
You saw apricity within my soul,
or was it a silly projection?
Your Summer heart.
I felt your wild sunflowers
blooming on my skin.
We came together;
Winter and Summer collide.
You said the snowflakes are peaceful,
I said the sunflowers are kind.
My Dying Leaves
My dying leaves
the Autumn of my life
the Winter of what might have been
Maroon leaves crack and crumble in my hands,
dead before I touch them
I long for the place I cannot find,
the leaves know of not of this place I cannot find
Neither do I
Was it from the past or the future?
I cannot find it
The curtain may close before I get the chance
Persimmon Dawn
Gloves of wool
a beanie with flying cats
layers of clothing
A Mugachino
startled frost-covered grass
breath shapes
The Winter dawn
Persimmon and soft blue layers
many birds sing
Morning dance
coffee smells mix with the dawn
rolling on the frost
a sun melody
different leaf shades
moody trees
dancing leaves
different dying shades
winter kisses
a strong gust
reds, yellows, and Olivine
playful trees
a bird song
rubbish moving in the wind
winter hugs
Returning to a short sleep,
I served for another year.
My sister awakens warmth,
I am not without a heart.
She knows I often take time,
so slow to let the North go.
Before sleep, we often talk,
I do get carried away.
My sister knows it is time,
before sleep, a naughty smile.
She and I are creative,
we produce a sun shower.
Returning to dreams and sleep,
see you soon, my sister Spring.
Autumn left as Winter dawns,
yet a calm intensity begins.
Linger it does within the hues,
as pink takes blue to indigo.
Crisp longings linger within,
yet the calm sea calls to me.
we walk in the mist,
we walk in the cold
you talk about nothing,
I talk about everything
we arrive at a warm fire
we arrive at a hot stew
you set the table,
I pour the champagne
and
then
the ice wine
A tree song
sung in the key of winter,
yet there is a melody here.
Her river art
is painted with romanticism,
yet her art is unclassified.
I stand still,
full of longing and sorrow,
yet she cheers me along.
A sun-kissed day.
A light breeze moves the grass in sea waves.
The long grass resists the mower blades, as the yellow-flowered weeds lament never seeing the bees again.
A shiver reminds me that Winter wants to hold on, yet Spring is here to stay.
C & K 