No scarf, no hat
not even a coat
Bare feet slip into sandals
and step outside
Shoulders back
Body open
to the sun and the breeze
Remember the days?
-
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Valerie Roney 
longing
The longing is real
The sun kissed toes
are only in my imagination
The shoulders back are real
The shoulders bared or
lightly covered in a tshirt
are only in my imagination
The warmth of legs is real
only in tights today
The warmth of legs
caressed by summer breezes
is only in my imagination
Hooray for my imagination!!!
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call comes in, what to do?
will you something do?
No, I’m not
why don’t you?
get some traction on thy shoe.
icy treachery melt to slough!
brother sun,
do what you do
graveling, salting will not do.
complain to me?
bark and bitch yee
oh will you?
crampons fix thee treachery!
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got an icy patch on your sidewalk Perry?
cool poem!
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don’t you grump, don’t you glower,
peace is found.. in flame-thrower!
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Very Shakespearean, very nice dramatic touch to an every day occurrence.
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same story different day… going through some sticky notes and found a summer poem….
Today the moon is full… …Clouds spread lightly across the sky
Birds chirping quietly
sounds of fluttering wings
yesterday morning watering the garden created a commotion
a pulse of life
The bird bath has been heavily used
I dump out the brown water and floating feathers
filling it fresh
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running
as it beckons
as the salted walks
bleed the last
of ice castle corpses
running
as it beckons
as the sunlit sultan
high on his perch
feather and down
is ready for merchant mating
soon to come
running
as it beckons
the on coming works
the glint of grass
the hint of hunt
slothly growing from
the rubble at our sneakers
running
as it beckons
as we are ever at the ready
your summer hair forgotten
your summer high reclaiming
all our destinies denied
in the drying sun
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Not a Shakesperean poem, but just a little thought:
oddly enough, with perpetual summer there does become a longing for the crispness and coolness of the winter. Each has its special quality. Green leaves rustling in the wind against a sunny blue sky – or white shimmering snow, frost tipped branches, the silence that only winter can bring. Both in moderation are beautiful, and in excess either one can become dull and ugly.
While I love being warm, I think finally understand that bizarre sentiment when people say they miss winter. I’m not sure I miss it yet, but perhaps I appreciate it more. (and one of the real joys of winter… it kills bugs!)
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This is exactly why I love living in Canada. It has very distinct seasons. Actually I miss the seasons of my childhood. Ontario had more of a spring and more of a fall than Alberta has. Every season has it’s own beauty and gifts. But it’s like “the grass is greener on the other side”, when we are deep into one season we sometimes look forward to the next one.
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Clear windshield in the morning
Yet the air is still fresh
Blue sky and birds singing
And the odd mosquitoe to bite my flesh
To let the air carress my skin
For my hair to freely float
Tired of seeing the moat
created by the snow there-in
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