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THIS WINTER NIGHT
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Hyacinth garden
IN MY DREAD THIS WINTERS NIGHT IS DEAD.
THE PICTURES SNOWY BLIZZARD BELIES.
WHITE ON BLACK THIN ICE CRIES OUT A COLD AND CRACKLING SOUND.
WHILE FROSTED BREATH HUFFS IN MY FRIGID HAND.
I HAVE DAFFODIL DREAMS DANCING IN MY HEAD.
THEY ARRIVE WITH COLORS SPLASHED ON MY EYES.
YELLOW, GREEN WITH SUNS WARMTH OBSCENELY MUDDIED GROUND.
WHEN WILL THE SPRINGS BREEZE SCOUR THE LAND.
How I miss your exquisite words! Haven't heard from you in awhile...How are you? I have never read this one before, and I just love it! You know when I moved to the South I thought I would NEVER miss this winter of the north. But in some wierd way I do. I miss the longing for spring, and the smell of the snow trapping you in a world of white. Please write soon! I miss talking with you.
Love,
Diva
The perfect poem for today!
Snowed in and getting sick again...sheesh.
I love your poems!
G