It’s February

It’s February
And soon day is over;
Before I know it
It’ll be October.

Barren trees and snowy white
Come and go and come again,
Chilly days and chilly nights
With only a fire for a friend.

The sky a smoky gray
With ghosts from another season
Haunting nights and haunting days
Down streets icily freezing.

The stillness is ever quiet
Till the wind bursts from its cave
A blizzard dancing with snow
Flakes bouncing wave after wave.

A white monolith of mountain
Rushes through cities and towns
An endless white filling the eye.
Then a green sprout through the ground.

It’s February
And soon day is over;
Before I know it
It’ll be October.

And the leaves will fall,
And the leaves will fall.

Snow

Teressa loved wintertime. She loved the chill of it. It gave her a good reason to snuggle up next to her mother. She loved the white of it. A day with snow was so much better than a day without snow. “It just is,” she told her friends. She loved it because sometimes she missed school. That was the best. She wasn’t much of a student.

Sitting in her parents’ house next to the fireplace, she thought about all the stories she could tell about the time it snowed. She could be an Eskimo living in an igloo. She would love to have her own igloo. But where did Eskimos hang their clothes? That might make a good story. An Eskimo who went looking for a clothes hanger and found herself lost on the ice. She smiled, then laughed. What fun that would be.

Her mother heard her laugh all the way in the kitchen. “You okay out there?” she called.

“Yes, Mom,” Teressa called back.

It was a happy home Teressa lived in. But happiness isn’t all its cracked up to be. She wanted a little adventure.

Then she thought of another story. This one featured Santa Claus and the North Pole. Because many of her stories contained Santa Claus and the North Pole, she let that one go. The Santa Claus and the North Pole stories were beginning to repeat themselves.

No, this story about the Eskimo was an intriguing one. The next time she was at the library she would have to read up on igloos and Eskimos and where they hung their clothes. Then she would start that story. Call it “Iglooland”. That would be the best of titles. She really liked it.

She got up and walked to the window and looked outside. The world was white. Snow blanketed everything. Out there was an Eskimo searching for a clothes hanger for her coat. Her warm coat.

micropoem of the day: one last blast

Well, folks, I know one thing. I will not miss January. At all. And I’m sure a lot of you probably feel the same way. We’ve been getting the cold. But we’re not getting the benefits. You know, like snow. There’ll be no Frosty the Snowman for us down here in mid-peninsula. That also means no snowball fights. Soon enough January will be gone and we might just end up being nostalgic for it.

One last blast
of a winter freeze.
Like a skater
ice comes, ice goes

haiku for the day: Florida weather

We don’t do winter in Florida the way states north of us do winter. Unless you’re in the tip top of the peninsula. Then occasionally a real cold spell might sneak up on you. Down here in the Central part of the state where I live, from time to time things turn nippy. Two or three times of the winter season it gets down in the thirties. Then the sun comes out and we’re back in the sixties, seventies and an occasional eighties. Down here the only kind of snow we get are the snowbirds. This week we’re getting the nip in nippy. 

a frost on the ground
leafless trees and chilly air
Florida winter.

haiku for the day: autumn poem

Autumn is here. Has been since September and winter is creeping up on us. Soon December will come and we’ll be into winter. There is a certain sadness from the trees this time of year as they ready for the coming season. Even here in Florida, the trees shed their leaves. Nature prepares for the up-and-coming. The birds fly south. The squirrels gather up as many nuts as they can, storing them for the coming days of less. And it’s time we pull out our winter clothes. 

leaf loose and falling
drifting toward earth below
till no more a leaf