Frozen in her icy grasp
captured in the frigid
stillness
coated by layer on layer
a blanket of white, of grey
a world in cocoon, caught in
squall, in flurry
in the cold, soundless
murmur
the hidden ripeness in
slumber
Held in abeyance, ready to
burst forth
in thaw and rebirth
Look carefully, see the
maple’s nascent sprig
Poised for spring, for the
smell of its flowering
Feel the warming of the sun
after the solstice
the hope in the lengthening
days
the smell of wood fire, the
dance of its flames
Still in January the crunch
of boots,
squeal of bitter cold snow
an artic moment fixed in the
wintry chill
lost in the brisk clear air
Everywhere her grip holds
sway
Jack Frost’s mantle, the
tinsel of his artistry
hanging in the air, these
moments
lost in the stillness,
calmness
Waiting impatiently for the
blooming
of the new season,
of the calendar, the days
turning,
the promise of the spring to
come
encased in the frosty
ripeness of winter.
Edited December 30, 2013
“A Ripeness of Winter – v4”
(editing original again)
Edited April 24, 2013
“A Ripeness of Winter – v3
(from original)
Edited August 9, 2012
“A Ripeness of Winter – v2”
1/16/06 22:50
“A Ripeness of Winter”
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 27,210+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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