To the Coming of Winter

By Rowan

Shivering limbs releasing death from their swaying frames,
the light melting further from the horizon's edge
and the kiss of dew freezing the world lame,
lay the crumbling corpses upon the Earth's bitter ledge.
Smothering frost frozen across the surface of lakes,
and drowned beyond depths where only the fish can play.
To bears come restful peace dozing away snow drift quakes,
small critters desperately scavenging food saved on a different day.
Taking to theĀ cavernous underground the sun can not penetrate,
removing itself to let the season enjoy solace in revival.
Softly floating from Heaven, candy clouds of snowflakes,
delicately distinguishable upon departure and time of arrival.
Spiraling to Nature's Garden blanketing death in white grace,
Angels purifying the veneer, a forsaken land erased.

**********

Shards of glass icicles on a rooftop's Christmas Eve,
cold hearted snowmen smiling stiffly as sleds speed by,
and frost-bitten children creating snow Angels to believe
one day to lift from Earth on snowy wings they fly.
Candle lights of Trees ornately decorated for season,
colorful wreaths of holly in a Wonderland of blizzard white.
With New Year springing to life with excuses and reasons
for a better tomorrow granted, the future of the bright.
Celebrations of views written in the earliest of years,
in Winter they thrive and family rejoices in hands held.
Swallowed by the cold and embraced in joyful tears,
disintegrate in dark snow droplets in which they meld.
Forever creeping along with icy fingers curled,
only to finally disappear as do the seasons of the world.

*****

As the days brighten and the Sun travels ever so near,
melting away at the frozen core of theĀ Earth's whole.
Relinquishing the fabric of those sheets so sheer,
the mud and rain mixing into a slush of my soul.
Days grow longer and nights withering cut quick,
hiding the stars behind clouds of dusk and the moon.
Rays awakening the world of life igniting the wick,
nature's slumber rendered at the chime of high noon.
Slowly shaking the last remnants of that Winter frost,
the final dusting of spring snow vaporizing with air.
All the creatures find the world they had left not lost,
stumbling to remember why it is they are there.
Dear Winter we shall meet again one chilling day,
but alas, till then this is my farewell I say.

*

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Copyright 2010 Rowan
Published on Thursday, April 22, 2010.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "To the Coming of Winter"

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  • charliebrown On Friday, April 23, 2010, charliebrown (22)By person wrote:

    your imagination is better than the real thing. thanks

  • Rowan On Friday, April 23, 2010, Rowan (197)By person wrote:

    Thanks everyone for your comments. I've actually never really seen a lot of snow. I live way down south so these scenes all pretty much came from my imagination. I wish it snowed down here more, but Georgia doesn't see much.

  • A former member wrote: What you said only proves that poetry comes not from experience but from the soul - in order to write about a subject so vividly and beautifully you don't need to be close to it in reality, as long as you are close to it at heart.

  • Malcholm Dark On Friday, April 23, 2010, Malcholm Dark (806)By person wrote:

    R, I bow to your winter/spring solace... The imagery is so very beautiful and perfect.. I am a desert rat and have only seen this splendid winter's scene a time or two... This poem is the way I remember it... thanks

  • A Life Without You On Friday, April 23, 2010, A Life Without You (146)By person wrote:

    wow, another excellent work by Rowan, enjoy reading your poetry, thx

  • HeadpatSlut On Thursday, April 22, 2010, HeadpatSlut (257)By person wrote:

    Yet another perfect work, you never cease to amaze me Rowan, with this one I can honestly say I think you're one of the best poets on this site, the last few lines were just breathtaking. Scholar

  • lupus tenebrae On Thursday, April 22, 2010, lupus tenebrae (860)By person wrote:

    This reminds me of why I used to love Winter, the landscape being covered in pure white. The feeling of sitting inside drinking hot chocolate next to a fireplace, those times will be missed. This was a brilliant visual piece Rowan, thanks for sharing. Scholar

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