Poetry Friday: Brrrr!!!

It's cold here in the deep South. No snow. No ice. Just cold, the kind we don't usually see until late January. It makes me want to wrap up in a blanket in front of a fire with a cup of hot tea and a good book.

Yesterday, I did just that. I've been reading Buffalo Soldiers by Tom Willard. He does a great job of presenting the big picture of life in the Tenth Cavalry, while weaving the story of one black soldier from enlistment to retirement. A good winter read.

It's poetry Friday and I've been absent for a while. Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf, make a new resolution, or just get more organized in the coming new year. We'll see.

Here is a poem I wrote a few years back. The cold reminded me of it.

Still, She Cannot Write the Spring

It was a cold Christmas

That chilled the roots and left no promise

Against the hard consonants of November.

A songless sparrow picks lichen

From trees standing bare in the wind

And listens with her for a touch

Of sunlight, for words to melt the icy ground,

To bear the burden of a crocus

Rising through frozen earth.

Innisfree Poetry Journal, 2006

More Poetry Friday here with Jama.