winter
A Winter’s Tale
Yesterday the fields were only grey with scattered snow,
And now the longest grass-leaves hardly emerge;
Yet her deep footsteps mark the snow, and go
On towards the pines at the hills’ white verge.
I cannot see her, since the mist’s white scarf
Obscures the dark wood and the dull orange sky;
But she’s waiting, I know, impatient and cold, half
Sobs struggling into her frosty sigh.
Why does she come so promptly, when she must know
That she’s only the nearer to the inevitable farewell;
The hill is steep, on the snow my steps are slow—
Why does she come, when she knows what I have to tell?
– David Herbert Lawrence
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Winter Night
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
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Winter
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When Blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
– William Shakespeare
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A Drink In February
Taverns along Milwaukee Avenue
near the expressway are bright
with red neon beer signs
Even on an afternoon in February
the welcome beacon of alcohol
cheers the drinker’s soul
Barstools hold allure for workers
and cops and tired codgers
who greet each other
Bacchus holds sway in his place
of business and surcease
from mortal pain today!
– Michael Pruchnicki
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
To A February Primrose
I know not what among the grass thou art,
Thy nature, nor thy substance, fairest flower,
Nor what to other eyes thou hast of power
To send thine image through them to the heart;
But when I push the frosty leaves apart
And see thee hiding in thy wintry bower
Thou growest up within me from that hour,
And through the snow I with the spring depart.
I have no words. But fragrant is the breath,
Pale beauty, of thy second life within.
There is a wind that cometh for thy death,
But thou a life immortal dost begin,
Where in one soul, which is thy heaven, shall dwell
Thy spirit, beautiful Unspeakable!
– George MacDonald
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
A February Night
Like an alley
The street hides between
Trees of brown rattling leaves
In the daring depths of dark.
The swirling wind above
Wrestles itself:
Spinning its airy way
Down the vacant road.
Aged rain water
Leaves its signature in mirror-like puddles
On the unpure pavement
And in the mind I call mine.
I fake possession of solitary sight
Enough to spot them
In light’s absence.
I playfully splash one:
Shattering its glassy stillness
To beg Childhood’s charming return to me.
– Amy Marie
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
February’s Colour
I looked into a February sky.
It’s dark, inky blueness
had no moon yet.
The car warmed me, as
tall, looming street lights
shone like stars, sparkling.
Spring is coming, I thought,
but winter’s icy hands
are still upon us.
How sad for February
that I wish it away
most every year
like an unwanted
stray at my door,
trying to be friendly.
Poor February,
it’s but a small bridge
to March
but for a moment,
this evening,
it was warm and full of colour.
– Ruth Walters
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
February Air
The crisp bite of February air
Blows through the streets
and causes a branch to shudder
The muted sun gently casts a glow
against the checkboard wall
of an undescript office building
– Allen Lin
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
February
Amazing how the temperature can vary
In the month of February
Sun is shining heat is climbing
Nearing 53 degrees
Bedroom window allows me the view
Of ice raining down, as the sun shines through
The snow covered ground with sparkling shine
Glistening in contrast with the grey wood line
Carefree squirrels racing tree to tree
Chasing each other in apparent glee
Scampering quickly tails in the air
Oblivious that I see them there
Deer grazing in the foliage abound
Lead by the meandering creek found
Twisting and turning through the hills
Harmonious it looks serene it feels
Enchanted I’m quite relaxed my feet up
Caressing the warmth of my coffee cup
Watching the horizontal shadow
Of vertical trees move slowly across the snow
February calling me to go out and play
On this lovely warm winter day
– Vern Eaker
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
In February
Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers;
A poet’s face asleep in this grey morn.
Now in the midst of the old world forlorn
A mystic child is set in these still hours.
I keep this time, even before the flowers,
Sacred to all the young and the unborn.
To all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat,
And to the Spring waiting beyond the portal,
And to the future of my own young art,
And, among all these things, to you, my sweet,
My friend, to your calm face and the immortal
Child tarrying all your life-time in your heart.
– Alice Meynell
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
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