An air of expectancy groans through nature's bare bones today...
...as if one can almost hear Old Man Winter's approach!
Lovers of 'brooding landscapes' better take a long, last look according to the weather-forecast
The air is poked with bare oak branch
And stoked with ‘almost snow’
Across the yard brittle leaves dance
In footloose tic-tac-toe
The land is primed for white that spills
To deck the halls brown-gray
Glad to be clad in sledding-hills
And snow angels at play
The far-off ridge broods blue and bare
It lures the poet’s gaze
To touch the tremble in its stare
And clutch time’s ebbing ways
The earth is like a tambourine
Where tuneless jingles shake
The wind, a minstrel, wild and green
Rattles the balsam brake
…and from each window eager-eyed
A world of children wait
To greet the whirling, twirling tide
As winter opes its gate
© Janet Martin
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!