Lost in Transit

Three weeks past the vernal.
The sun shines faithfully,
But barren winter lingers.
Stubbornly prolonging dormancy.
Still feeding on the decay,
Of the previous year.
Not a blade of grass grows,
Nor any flower blooms.
Skeleton trees stand naked,
And leafless in the wind.
Predominant brown denies green.
The flight of spring, delayed.
Though more likely cancelled.

Sunshine on the Rocks

Still frozen at Middle March.
Minus thirteen at seven am.
Yet, sunny. Bright azure sky.
Sun shines grey off the rocks.
White in the shadows.
Even its diluted warmth,
Somehow makes me sun drunk.
It penetrates the frigid air,
And mixes a chilly cocktail.
Sunshine and Swedish vodka,
Shaken and served over ice.

Perspective

There’s fire and flooding,
Death and destruction,
And pain and pollution,
Debris and obstruction,
So it’s really just sad,
Not the least bit okay,
That I’m annoyed,
At not getting,
A pumpkin spice latte.

Weather Vane

You’re not vain,
Weather vane,
You probably think
I know more
Than you do.
But you rock,
Weathercock.
You know more about,
The weather than,
I do!
I do!
I do!

Not Yet September

Today I saw
some maple saplings
already turning red and gold.

You are too eager, baby trees.
For it’s not yet September.
Not yet.

Perhaps being so young,
they did not know
it’s still summer,
even though
it is getting colder.

The grown up trees know.
They’re still as green and leafy
as they were a month ago.

Now the autumn chill
seeps through the crack
of the open window,
and penetrates the thin fabric
of my sleeves.

My arms are cold.
Time to take out
the heavier things.

I won’t close the window.
For it’s not yet September.
Not yet.

Exit Winter

You thought that she was finished, gone.
But then Late Winter comes along,
For one last party, one last fling,
Before it becomes proper spring.
One last performance, one last show,
Of rain and hail and wind and snow.
Then she takes a bow, exits the stage.
And lets Early Spring out of her cage.

Tardy Winter

Ah, winter.
You’ve finally decided
to join us,
I see.
Arrvived just last week
with those minus
degrees.
All the neighborhood kids
have been longing
for snow.
So you came in and
dropped it all in
one go.
Still, I suppose
it’s nice that
you’re here.
I was starting to think
my long underwear
would be unused
this year.

Heavy December

It’s December in Sweden,
Darkest time of the year.
When we’re all needing,
Snow to bring us good cheer.
For our hearts to brighten,
And our souls to lighten.
Snow, if you please.
But it’s too warm to freeze.
So the wind just throws rain.
Endless rain at your pane.
Endless gloom fills the room,
Fills your head and your heart.
And your soul feels so heavy,
In the dark.