The chill in the air
Carried with it a resounding
Sense of peace,
A reminder that
The quiet time
Was approaching,
Where earth slumbered
And events came to a halt,
Windows closed
And doors locked
Combating the cold
Of coming Winter-
A being who was announced
First by the fumbling of leaves,
The blush brought to their features
Before they browned and fell
Upon acorn piles
And grass dusted in
Icy crystals
That melted with the Sun’s
First appearance in the sky-
Growth was paused,
As humans nestled
By fireside
With steaming mugs
And thick volumes of
Words meant to pull them
To other worlds
While their physical forms awaited
The warmth of spring,
Not yet prepared to rush along
Winter’s visit
In fear of encouraging
One of his storms
That would rattle their home
And snap the spines
Of standing oaks,
While they counted the minutes
Until Spring’s uprising-
What a fickle relationship-
And all the power Nature held.
Katrina Thornley is a nature poet. novelist, and freelance journalist that resides in Rhode Island. She has two poetry collections currently published, a novel, as well as a short story anthology. Her poetry collections "Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature" and "Arcadians: Wooden Mystics" were inspired by a local park and life in her small rural town. You can find them on Amazon now!
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About the Creator
Katrina Thornley
Rhode Island based author and poetess with a love for nature and the written word. Works currently available include Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature, Arcadians: Wooden Mystics, 26 Brentwood Avenue & Other Tales, and Kings of Millburrow.
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Comments (3)
There's only been one year when I didn't lament the first thaw as the snow began to melt. It was in the 1990s, it began with a freezing rain that left a thick sheet of ice over everything in early October. That rain turned into another several inches of snow. It didn't melt. In January we had three blizzards that got everything cancelled, all on Saturday (meaning no worship services at church). In February, there were two more, also on Saturdays. In March there were another two, also on Saturdays. The first Saturday in March was the final major blizzard of the year. It, too, was on a Saturday. Across the state of South Dakota we averaged almost 100 inches of snow that year. There were banks of it still in the shelter belts through the month of June. (This was not in the Black Hills but rather the central plains.) By November, funeral homes quit doing burials. They didn't resume until sometime the following spring. I love the winter. But that was a bit much even for me.
Beautiful... I am right there with you in Winter's embrace... snug... peaceful. 💙✍️💙
Great poetry.