
Winter’s End
It will come, that polluted spring thaw,
the once fresh snow will lay impotent
upon earth’s emerald carpet. The
whiteness of it spotted with
shapes and colors left behind by
blustery winds.
Shiny frozen tendril’s hang like daggers
from the gray edifice where dark green
moss climbs freely upward. The smell of
rotting earth fills the air, it will take many
rains to have the sweet smell of honeysuckle
lingering in the space called home.
Until spring, one must continue to plod along
through sleet and sullied snows. One will
dream about a warm fire, a good book in
hand sitting in a favorite chair. No
troubled spirits will fill the night. One
dreams of the warmth of sunshine after
a cleansing rain. Spring will soon arrive,
and we will see winter’s end.
Copyright©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
Books by Author at Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com:
- Fragments of Time
- A Passage into Madness
- Asterial Thoughts
- A Sachet of Poetry
- Rutted Roads
- Rhythm Rhyme and Thoughts
- Reflections of Poetry
- Beyond the Voices
- Honeysuckle Memories
- Echoing Images from the Soul
- A Journey into the Soul
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So beautifully spoken! Thank you.
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Thank you. E.
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I like this very much.
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A bit short, but the feeling was there, thank you so much for letting me know Liz. I am always so grateful for your comments. E.
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You’re welcome. Sometimes a few short lines are all that are needed to make a big impact.
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An forward-looking metaphor for our times
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🙂
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