WHERE THE WINDS BLOW

WHERE THE WIND BLOWS The trees of the forest shiver and shake, their long limbs trembling for the next quake. Their bodies blaze a glaring white with tears frozen from their new plight. The world has become hard and cold. My trembling body feels...

The trees of the forest shake,

their limbs fearing the next quake.

Their thick trunks glisten in white,

with tears frozen from their plight. 

Surrounded on four sides by white, 

the bright glare has blinded my sight.

A shadow emerges from the trees.

I hope it is not him, pretty please.

My body moves forward against my will.

I grab a tree trunk and try to hold still.

I dig my feet into the packed snow,

but I must go where the wind will blow.

UNWANTED FOOTSTEPS

 

 

Silence sweeps the streets clean.

No voices to mark the white surface.

A cold wind brushes away

prints of unwanted footsteps.

Lights in the distance

warn us of inhabitants.

Ignore those earthly reminders

of noise and commotion.

Instead, enjoy the serenity

nature presents to us.

WHITE BLANKET

Source:

 

Look to the glowing skies,

Magic before my eyes.

Snow flutters to the ground

Without even a sound.

Masking the dirt with white,

So pretty and so bright.

I hope it can remain this way,

A blanket for one more day.

 

WHITE COTTON BALLS IN THE SKY

Source:

 

From inside my dark room,

I watch the clouds drift by.

Puffy, white cotton balls

dotting the blue sky.

Dare I leave my safe haven

and venture outside?

I’ll wait until tomorrow

as they float on by.

 

NO PAINTING REQUIRED

 

Brush strokes of blue and gray

to fill in the puffy clouds.

Crayon swipes of teal and aquamarine

to meet at the neverending horizon.

Each wave swell of the purest white

to rise from the depths of dark blue.

My fingers reach for the canvas.

My eyes travel to the brushes.

I shake my head.

No painting is needed.

No copy to diminish the essence 

of a perfect summer day at the shore.

MOON SHADOW

My favorite poem. I had to share it again.

 
 
MOON SHADOW
I live in the shadow of the moon.
I have grown and sprouted much too soon.
I will try with all my might
To live in the bright sunlight.
I close my eyes but yet I’m still here.
Sitting on a branch next to a pear.
My petals are white as snow
Because of this fact I know.
I will never be awake at day
No matter how hard I wish and pray.
For I live in the shadow of the moon 
And I’m slated to sing the nightly tune.