Remembering Winter

Winter, my old friend...

I see you beyond the hill

Autumn's last leaf swept away

My shoulders shake with chill

Are my bones just getting old?

They say you're on the way.

Even the clouds have lost their fluff

They seem so flat, so grey.

Yet, I recall a winter past

When cold couldn't halt my play

And the crunch of snow beneath my boots

Brought smiles to my day.

As snowballs landed at my feet

Thrown by admiring boys

Placing me on center stage

I can hear their swishing noise.

As days grow short and cold winds blow

I glance at the orange sun

Remembering so long ago

When winter just meant fun! 

© Shelly Sitzer, 2019

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

My Rebeccas

In my youth there was Rebecca standing on a hill of snow.

Other boys fought for attention but her smile was just for me.

The frozen city was our playground.

Our exploits were the stuff of legend,

Until our friendship faded into time.

In my teens there was Rebecca reading poetry in class.

She was kind to me when others found it amusing to be cruel.

We would talk until the break of dawn

And exchange desires and secrets,

Until our romance faded into time.

Away at school there was Rebecca studying rare works of art.

Wild, intense, and passionate and interested in me.

Our days were filled with ecstasy.

At night we dreamt about the future,

Until our liaison faded into time.

In my middle years there was Rebecca working in a crowded office.

Her energy and beauty sliced through monotony with ease.

We were partners, friends, and lovers

Fusing intimacy and insight,

Until our marriage faded into time.

In the end there was Rebecca living with me in a home.

All her trials and tribulations made her as strong as she was wise.

We laughed and cried through all our stories

And cherished moments spent together,

Until we both faded into time.

© Ben Siegan, 2019

Monday Snow

Monday snow drawn from high to low in waves 

Looking to find a place to moor and grow 

In banks and drifts in the early moments of the day.

I see it land now softly with a lightly blown spray

In the crooked of branches of Dogwood elbow

Monday snow drawn from high to low in waves. 

Then cradled as a baby held against all sway

Innocence in a path it does not know

In banks and drifts in the early of the day. 

Like some ancient pilgrim seeking the way

Finding the sky holy holding earth its bones

Monday snow drawn from high to low in waves. 

What was then for what is now know I may 

A snow laced dream resting here alone

In banks and drifts in the early of the day.  

Snow rests in sun and changes by its rays 

As a wayward one who moors then he goes.

Monday snow drawn from high to low in waves

In banks and drifts in the early of the day.  

© Dennis Wright, 2015

Trail at Ivy Creek
Photo by Tony Russell