Yesterday I felt solace in the breeze.
Balmy strokes across my skin
brought particles of sunlight to
relax and soothe my bare arms and face.
To massage my forehead and brush back my hair.
Today I awoke to gray outside my open windows.
And the gray pushed a cold breeze around my shoulders.
I pulled the covers around me and escaped my dread.
I dreamed of ships and warmth, children playful in a pool.
The pool turned to ice and I was skating
among bundled colorful people.
I was gliding with ease on white-blue sparkles.
I took flight, and joy overcame me.
Perhaps I will glide through this winter.
Maybe I won’t despair the last balmy breeze.
The warmth will visit again when we least expect it.
On a January morning we’ll open our doors
expecting a blast of chill.
We will step out onto the porch and greet
our surprise visitor.
Warmth will come to visit
and we will revel in the day.
When you receive the gift of a warm day in the dead of winter it's just a little reminder that each season EVENTUALLY makes way for the next....and each has its' "nice" qualities - like balmy breezes AND the feel of ice skates on blue ice.....Lovely poem Janet!
Janet it's so good to read you again. Too long between posts my friend;-)I love this mind-meandering beauty, it is so true to the way we feel, with the seasonal changes. Wonderful poetry!
Welcome!
The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
Beautif
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
Ron
Love,
Eileen