Late Winter

The cold hangs tough, even after time springs forward

The chill threatens to homestead deep within my marrow

A few more robins will boost the morning chorus

Songs for survivors, the margin for nature is narrow

In my dreams, I am sailing far away

After an interlude of modeling beach swimwear

There’s only Key West breeze on my burnt face

If this was my final winter, they’ll be no fanfare

I waken to the frantic tapping on the panes

Gusts of semi-frozen rain blanket my world

It’s one against the force of the angry heavens

Dare I raise challenge to God’s might unfurled

Instead of confronting this late arriving bluster

I plug every crack and crevice, standing my ground

Should I perish, frozen and buried without a trace

When the wildflowers awaken, I will be found

4 thoughts on “Late Winter

  1. I like the image pairing with this poem, looks like you are soaring through the eye of the last storm, with the hopeful messages of the poem. This is heightened by the sensation of flying drawn in the competing images of spring birds. It gave me the illusion and visual imagery that I was a bird in flight flying with you fighting off the winter sadness, and feeling hopeful spring the way the birds do, awakening in full feeling in the desire for language in bird’s only way song. I like how you activate all the senses with this work, through a journey illustrated so well in imagery and call to imagery of paired image, excellent work. Thank you for sharing. You brought me great joy. I thank you for this.

    Liked by 1 person

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