Just a fun, silly something for this sunny Friday. Enjoy!
Good morning from
the Land of Almost There,
where we celebrate
a week’s close
with friends and beer.
Tonight, we’ll pretend
the work’s at an end
for two days’ time
and change, and
hang our hopes on
brighter days
when we’ll be free
to do as we please.
This is your invite.
Don’t be late!
I don’t know if this is a thing that happens in other places, but here in Virginia, before we get on with actual spring, we usually have a first spring, or what some people call a “fool’s spring.” And, well, I think we’re there.
It’s beautiful and sunny and in the 60s (Fahrenheit) today, and will be tomorrow as well. But I don’t think winter’s quite ready to let us go, and it’s supposed to be cold and possible snowy on Sunday before warming up again next week. So, I guess we’ll see.
Virginia, y’all. She always keeps her people guessing.
Anyway, I wrote a poem about it, because it just felt like the right thing to do.
**********
Winter’s chill softens.
The sun and air and wind
turn gentle and warm
and the ground begins to thaw.
All around the sounds of new life –
a world rife with breeze and birdsong –
but first impressions
can be wrong
and beauty’s a fickle thing.
Here in Virginia,
it remains to be seen
whether this is truly spring.
Another one for the poetry challenge over at Fake Flamenco!
The challenge for February is to write a pareado with the theme of friendship. Well, I’d never written a pareado before, and y’all, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be! But friendship certainly has a place in my heart, what with the Better Friendships podcast that I co-host with one of my besties. So, even though it was difficult, I had to give it a try. The results?
A true friend is a guiding star
who lights the way even from afar.
No one walks life’s path alone
who has a friend in heart or home.
…Not my best work. But it was still super fun! And if you want to participate, the challenge is open until February 12th.
When my child asks
why my hair is going gray,
I will say:
“Those are my stardust streaks.”
I will tell her we’re all made
of earth and star stuff,
and one day, once again,
that’s what we’ll be.
And I’ll remind her
that it’s not a tragedy
to say goodbye, even though
it’s sad for a time,
because she can always
find me in the night sky.
*I read Star Mother by Charlie N. Holmberg this morning. It clearly left me feeling inspired (see: this poem, above), and I’d highly recommend it if you’re looking for something to read this week.*
Darkened sky and sodden ground,
drops, drips, and downpours –
the sound: a rhythm of life
on cold, hard earth.
The winter rain reminds us,
a damp drumbeat
to tell the world that
spring’s around the corner.
…for a day when my brain is just fried. Good news – we found a food Gatsby will eat! Bad news – it smells absolutely, nose-numbingly terrible. What can you do? Drink coffee and write silly poetry, that’s what!
I think the universe should know
that I would like to see some snow.
Though I don’t mind a winter rain,
I’d like some flakes to fall again.
I love a warm and breezy day,
but it’s a while ‘til June and May.
So sometime between now and then,
let’s get some winter on again
and satisfy those folks rarest
who love the cold and snow the best.
Little one,
the time is now
to sing your winter song.
From your ice-covered perch,
let it carry and fly –
over snow-covered fields
and windswept hills,
deep into the meadows and valleys.
Let the cold wind sweep it
far and wide.
Remind us all that
beauty lives
in frost and bloom alike.
Pink sky, white landscape
Sun rises on a bright day
Winter greets the world
A storm overnight
Red berries in sparkling ice
Dangerous beauty
Cold winter moonlight
Stars on a velvet canvas
Silence in the fields
I know the beauty
of snow
is fleeting,
but it’s sad just the same
to watch it melt away
under a bright, warm
winter sun
and return to the earth
to one day fall again.
Until then,
I’ll wait.
Through the gate and
into the cold winter world,
the New Year comes to greet the Old.
Not to replace or relive,
but revive –
tired hands,
tired hearts,
tired minds –
and bring new light
to the darkest days.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 