With the swagger of a swimmer
approaching the starting block
January blooms covering a Christmas cactus
in magenta splendor;
He cantered toward the white arena fence
with his mane
full of frosty wind.
He sailed over
We watched his spotted rump
trot away towards
a patch of winter grass.
I have lain and listened to coyotes call;
Their yip yip howl piercing the moonless night
As I toss sleepless; my thoughts a brick wall.
I have trudged through fog — grey, damp, thick and deep;
Obscuring the sun and hiding my path,
Drowning defiance and welcoming sleep.
I have seen branches turn black with frostbite —
Shrivel, wither and die; misshapen stumps
Where happy growth sighed and gave up the fight.
And, still, each year daffodil leaves appear,
Green spears pushing through the icy cold frost.
Daring me to bloom, to live, without fear.
Thank you to the Poetry Palace for this award! Check out the site for some great poetry.
January mud seeps
through my jeans
where I kneel in the orchard.
I scrape and cup
pulling damp handfuls
from the planting hole.
My fingers break
into an old gopher hole
— double layer of chicken wire there–
the bareroot whip of wood
like a stick figure
and scoot dirt around roots
firming and filling
An earthy scent of moist soil
Then, a thick blanket
of composted fall leaves,
and horse manure.
The roots will wait.
Their spring sleeping
in winter’s warmth.
Thank you to The Poetry Palace
for selecting this poem as Inspiration of the Week. I am thrilled!