Gale warning hail warning
Sky sifts high drifts
Finding bright blinding white
Snowball snowfall
Moonscape snowscape
Frostbite dost bite
Rococo swirls hot cocoa curls
Icy glove spicy love
Huddle in cuddle in
Rock salt clocks halt

----Barbara Reiher-Meyers ©2006


Winter Solitude

Winter solitude-
In a world of color
The sound of wind.

----Matsuo Basho


A Ripeness of Winter

Frozen in her icy grasp
Captured in the frigid stillness
Coated by layer on layer
A blanket of white, of grey
A world in cocoon, caught n squall, in flurry
In the cold, soundless murmur
The hidden ripeness in slumber
Held in abeyance, ready to burst forth
in thaw and rebirth.

Look carefully, see the maple’s nascent sprig
Poised for spring, for the smell of its flowering
Feel the warming of the sun after solstice
The hope in the lengthening days
The smell of wood fire, the dance of its flames
Still in January the crunch of boots,
Squeal of bitter cold snow
An arctic moment fixed in the wintry chill
Lost in the brisk clear air
Everywhere her grip holds sway
Waiting impatiently for the blooming
of the new season,
encased in the frosty ripeness of winter.

----Raymond A. Foss


“At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled mirth;
But like of each thing that in season grows.”

----William Shakespeare


Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it’s queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there’s some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

----Robert Frost


I Heard A Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December

----Oliver Herford


Dec '10 - Jan '11