Rest sayeth he.
Actually,
that is what I want to be told to me.
No, no rest for me but the shovel it shall be.
Winter's whisp of wind
bit at my nose
as my lungs spew frozen bits of air
the push, lift and toss caused my muscles to bind.
Step by step
I clear my path
wider and wider became the path
as I shoveled away unwanted thoughts from my inner depts.
Warmth bound, I turn
to see nothing perfect
but perfect for the moment
and turn with a smile as I go to watch a fire burn.
With a warm cup of tea,
I nestle into my seat
and smile at the storm outside
I am a witness to the furry the winter wind's plea.
Ski, Skate, Sled or Snowshoe
She yells to me, "Come play with me"
she begs at the window pane
sending wefts of white in its winter show.
Rest, Sayeth He
for she is untamed,
toiled temptress today.
Just sip your tea with coved knees and just be.
About the Creator
Sheila L. Chingwa
Welcome to my world.
Welcome to my thoughts.
I am proud to be a Native American Elder born and raised in Northern Michigan. Thanks to my hard work I have a B.A. in Education and a Masters in Administration and Supervision in Education.
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Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Love how you personify the snow. And how you describe the struggles of dealing with the snow, and choosing to either go to there and work or just stay in the warmth. Lovely poem about winter 🩵🤍🩵🤍