Snow is falling by the window:
down,
slanted,
sideways,
sparsely,
heavily,
quickly,
slowly.
Everything is possible;
you don’t need to know.
Just rest at the window,
watch the snow.
poem-first snow November 9, 2018
Grey morning:
sky falls in fragile pieces
past my window,
lies,
white clouds upon the ground.
This morning
I can touch the sky.
Cold comfort.
poem- dusting December 1, 2017
Falling from the sky
in perfect crystals,
dusting trees, fields, and me
with peace of the season.
.
Falling through the screen,
pixilated dots
dusting poetry
with peace of the season.
.
(Every year on Dec 1, it begins to snow on my blog. It makes me ridiculously happy every time! If you would like snow to fall in your blog, add it in your settings.)
poem- ominous February 7, 2017
The sky could not be bluer
turquoise and ocean and bright summer day
captured on the snow piled like icing on the trees,
but on the horizon
a wall of charcoal grey
hints at a blizzard on its way.
I watch through the window and hope
I’m home before it hits.
poem- waiting February 3, 2017
The ground hog said spring was coming
but the snow falling outside my window
begs to differ.
poem-promise December 3, 2016
Snow hugs the hills and
draping lower with slow purpose.
Flakes flip and fall, settle for a moment
Their white crystals paradoxically painting pavement black.
Winter is coming closer with every flake.
poem-flocked absence February 5, 2016
The world is flocked white
and I stretch my toes searching for your lingering warmth.
Absent.
It’s slow on the road today,
highway’s slick and I wish I could take a sick day.
Absent.
The world is flocked white
like it’s powdered me on the trees; I’m empty.
Absent.
The world is flocked white
I want to abrogate responsibility and hibernate.
Absent.
poem- grey day January 14, 2016
January is filmed
in black and white,
soft focus filter,
lots of white space.
Mist grows until
it fills the screen,
ready for the credits
to roll by.
poem-morning December 25, 2015
Somewhere,
children are laughing
tearing wrappings
squealing gleefully.
Somewhere,
some one is dining on cold pizza
in relative contentment
absent of relatives.
Somewhere,
snow is falling,
from a moonlit sky
and light is returning
bit by bit.
poem-white November 16, 2015
Streaks of white flash past my windshield
like I’m entering hyper-space,
hoping not to be hit by space debris
(or other cars)
’cause that’d end my trip real quick, wouldn’t it?
No one really likes driving the highway home
through a snowstorm.
Where’s Han Solo when you need him?
Shawn L. Bird 