The following poem is indicative of my lack of literary talent, but completely evocative of my current feelings upon wakening back at home in Buchanan after a California trip.
Snow
Drifting down
A beautiful blanket
Covers the stark winter plants
Making the mundane beautiful
Turning my pink fingers to white
Frostbite
Gangrene
Damn snow
Sun
Melting the snow
Filling the lakes and rivers
Warming my freakishly cold fingers
Where the hell is Spring
Front porch swings are currently useless
Hurry up
Sun
Your sentiments are well taken and even if you're not a poet, they were fun.
ReplyDeleteAnd it's so friggin cold outside!
ReplyDeleteI loved your poems and your pictures.
ReplyDelete