Page 70 - WCM 2023 Winter Flip
P. 70
Chirping Birds
We survived another winter.
Signs of spring are streaming through. I woke up to chirping birds
and replied to them, “Yahoo!”
Ice crystals frozen on my window soon begin to melt and drip.
Just as doorsteps say goodbye
to a glaze that made me trip and slip.
I enjoy viewing snowcapped mountains while wrapped in a robe of woolen twill, but today I’m glad to let it fall
and skip freely about with little chill.
Yes, we’ve survived another winter
in our orbit ’round the sun.
Perennials sing like chirping birds. Come on, let’s rise and have some fun!
Mary C. and Gabriel Hargreaves
Winter Haiku
Harvest moon: dappled light casts long shadows in forest
red fox shivers ****
High above the mountain snowflakes form, fall
the scent of ski wax ****
Snowplow pushes pile after heavy storm— mailbox smackdown
Nancy Ann Schaefer
When I Miss You Most
I miss you most in bleak November when trees bare their limbs to the cold, revealing hidden expanses of the woods where whitetails gather.
I miss you most in stark November when darkness robs the day of light by midafternoon and headlights are needed by four.
I miss you most in rugged November when bearded men in orange
crowd grocery carts
with beer and jerky.
I miss you most in cold November when I put on for the first time the last pair of deerskin gloves you had made for me.
I miss you most in November and all forty years of months since 1981.
Darlene Glover
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