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Photography poetry

At Landscapes Bare

 

The lone stare at landscapes bare gets me
Clouds above hovering fluffy grays get me
A sliver of sky, that distinctive blue hue, a fine line in sky, gets me
It gets me
to another
place
in
time—
to
the
daffodils’ yellows
nestled near houses,
roadsides, and hills

To
the
roses’ bolds & pastels,
pocketed at porch’s corner

To
the
greens, light & dark,
all lush, carpeting grounds around

The two-hand hold of a mug
and this slow, slow sipping
reminds me to look and look again
I relish warmth in winter
I admire, love really, the
fuzzy slippers warming cold toes,

my couch’s soft, cottony throw-
how it drapes my body, cocoon-like,
all the way to under my chin
that makes me smile again & again

To satisfying soups, warm muffins,
toasted-buttered-jammed bread,
hot baths,  steamy showers,
marshmallow-ed hot cocoa

To comforting broth, yummy stew. Oh.
Can it? Can winter be the warmest season?

The lone stare at landscapes bare gets me.
I remember spring’s landscapes, delightful
the colors, the beautiful colors, soon to be here

The lone stare at landscapes bare gets me
And I take another sip, slowly now, in my wintertime

IMG_8577 copy1

 

 

5 replies on “At Landscapes Bare”

Hello, Michael,
Thanks for commenting here.
If it’s extremely cold outdoors, my preference is to stay inside especially if the weather is treacherous as sometimes wintry conditions can be. Recently I’ve read a children’s book to my primary students, and it referred to winter as the warmest season.There is no match for something which alters winter’s chill.(like hot/warm beverages, soups, fireside warmth, etc.) Thanks for reading my spill today. The “editor in me” may step in & rearrange some of this at a later time. Take care, & if it’s cold where you are, stay warm.

Jan

Like

Everything wraps itself around the reader,
especially the fuzzy slippers around cold toes…
I felt that all the way to the ends of my fingers, the
top of my head, and yes to the tips of my toes.

Like

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