Fox and Mother Winter

We had our first flurries of snow this morning just after dawn. And it made me feel happy. Just as I realised that making sure that I write a poem a day – good, bad, indifferant – that I keep at the poetry practice – also makes me deeply happy. It has become the stake in the ground that is keeping me centred in this Crazy Train world, where who knows what will happen where and to whom.

I woke up just as dawn was breaking, which is a rare occasion for me.  And I had more leisure to doodle on the page. I posted a haiku on Facebook for my friends. And then two poems emerged, which I will share. Neither are profound, but they do act as a poetry journal entry for what is happening in my world. Which is real to me, woo woo and all. I have kept at a daily entry now for six weeks and this just feels so right. It gives me joy.

 

Fox At Twilight

 

At twilight as we drove along our road

we saw it stop, stilling on the lane’s verge –

tail erect, tip a snowball or pompom,

head turned towards us, eyes glittering.

Then, a graceful duck and dive into hedge.

It was an instant’s benediction.

Be aware. Stay wise. And wild, quick and free.

 

Copyright © Bee Smith 2018

 

Mother Winter

 

Crept over our threshold

trailing pink cloud

and the shadow of ghostly moonset.

She arrived with a flurry of crystal pebbles

that glimmered on my dog’s coat,

making it into an old girl’s Princess cloak.

It’s official when you send up smoke signals

from the chimney with a morning fire.

With ceremony, the purple gloves,

the hand-knitted cowl come out from

their special seasonal drawer full of

ritual winter gear.  Even the hot water bottles

have knitted sweaters to keep us all cozy.

The light shall fail early now,

the chill beginning to seep in at three.

Mother Winter breathed it ice cold

at dawn with that ghostly white moon set.

 

Copyright © Bee Smith 2018

Featured image:

Photo by Nam Hoang on Unsplash
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