Tag: Nature

The Switch

trE

Winter dances on the
edge of acceptance
dolls her way back
into the fold

I pull down windows
shut balcony doors
the thermostat reads
65° and my arms
are home to goose bumps

I up the ante
turn on the heat
“Just to knock
the chill off”
and find some form
of comfort

She tricked us
sassy Winter and
switched things up
she just won’t let
Spring have her
shine

Patience

trE
Photo by Rachel Sanner via Unsplash

it’s nearly hurricane season
Spring is rushing in with
her hands flailing wildly
among the trees
the sky is hovering in wait
it spits violently from its mouth

we are huddled in safe spaces
keeping away from windows
and finicky doors
meteorologists plot and plan
and untruthfully dictate when
to expect the worst
I flit from channel to channel
praying for validity

I can hear the wind howling
a loud and present reminder
for me to remain patient
the sun is eager to shine again
and we’ll find ourselves gathered
out in the open to feel
something more than the
enclosed spaces of our homes

crows caw and boast from
building to building
mocking each other during
their calls to mob
the other birds
their means of survival strikes
me as terrifying but
what would they say about us

I press my fingers
into my right palm
a stress reliever
a gentle and surefire way
to calm my nerves
this weather won’t last
and one day
we’ll emerge from the
comfort of our homes
happy to greet the sun again

one day . . .

Originally published via Medium.

perdure

trE
Frozen Limbs|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt


free verse

I have my past with me
when I capture images
of the world’s intense
measurements of weather
and all its inconsistencies.

we gather in the small belly
of brooks and creeks, carrying
misdeeds and moments of
judgment with us.
to unveil the depths of
our weakest acts, I snap
the places I’ve been
and the things I see.

everything is a solid reminder
of what has been and of
what’s to come.
I know you remember who I was
but do you know who I am?

the broken twigs of
a lonely tree send spry memories
to my brain and I weep
in the winter wind.

you have found your place
in my heart; etched into my mind,
permanently placed on the
folds of time and I cannot
offer you a pass or release
you from your current
imprisonment.

you once had all of me
but now you own a few months
out of the year and I am
battling two different versions
of myself to get those
months back.

winter came for her
just due and all I have
is a trite recollection of
your lips on mine and
fingers hidden in places
called private and alcohol
singed split ends that
never found their home
on your pretty little head.

I walk with the wild breeze
and talk to the sleeping sun.
you were my once-upon-a-time
and while I do miss you,
I still have these photographs
to keep me company.

they’re a much better
replacement than that
sly and witty smirk
that never seemed to
leave your unforgettable face.

yes . . . I said it — I miss you,
but let that be our
little secret.
everything else was.

This poem is in response to Wild Flower’s first prompt of the year in Where Wild Things Grow on Medium.