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Crisp, the fallen leaves now pile,
the times are changing, Autumn-style,
breezes rake the tippy-tops of trees,
bare branches rattle like skeleton keys.
Subtle September has come once again,
tipping its hat to the Summer's end,
makes clear and crisp the evening air,
the harvest season now sidles near,
grass and weeds will wither dry,
scythes and sickles swing low and high,
gourds of pumpkins soon will burst in patches,
fat apples drop down cider-press hatches,
so soon those sugary coats of frost shall rise,
and sharp, chilly winds will sting teary eyes,
fruit pies will bake, brown nuts will roast,
glasses of wine shall arise in toasts,
to the approach of yet another Fall,
before the stark-white of Winter blankets all.
D. Conors
11 September 2010
Skeleton trees,
stripped down to the bone,
live naked within the walls of winter

Icicle boughs,
and branches buried deep in white
Conical conifers draped with ****** snow,
a blanket of diamond dust
They now enter my frozen world,
like life would now exist
inside of a snow globe

The drifting slopes
add white dimension
to this winter world
Frost upon the windows,
designed like crystal upon the glass,
sends shivers down my spine
The mass exodus of flocks of birds,
migrating south
for their seasonal vacation,
have gone away

These are the images embedded in the hynotic halls of my mind

The aging calender
upon the sunless wall
will soon give way to another year
The polar atmosphere
will have to surrender
its icy grip
but it is in no hurry
once January rolls around

In wintertime
we become like  
weary, winter warriors
as we are manned with
shovels and plows,
battling the barrage of shellfire
of continuous cold, snow and ice
Shielded with scarves and heavy apparel,
shoveling and scraping,
salting and sweeping,
we are at war with
the fierce elements
that make us slip and slide
The salt trucks look like
army tanks on the move

Playful adventurers laugh at the scorn
The mammoth artic tundra
is their playground,
the ultimate winter utopia
They shall master
the slippery landscape
on skis, sleds and skates
in their pleasure
to conquer the frozen land

Winter is truly a wonder,
but soon my
Spring and Summer dreams
lie captive
I find myself
a foreigner of this wintry wilderness
My fair, flowery fields are gone
Barren are those beautiful images,
for Spring, Summer and Fall,
fables to my wintry world,
have slumbered all too long

Soon I am pondering.....

If only I can thaw
these stone solid feelings,
as the land soon melts
into Spring tears,
and can light a lamp within,
defrosting the sub-zero
feelings inside of me,
I will fully embrace the dreams
of warmer times,
and I shall find myself once more

A woman who knows why
she endures such a season,
shoveling my way through
the stormy periods of life
to thrive amid
the firsts of Spring
1990s and improved on it in 2010
Gold print on the china
High grade deception
You appear as a statue in my memories
I was alive
You were of wax
I was your talisman
Sent to initiate you into the mysteries of protection
Of love
Averting evil
You were my ***** and Gomorrah
In you destruction patiently waited
Discordant diatonic cacophonies
Hate for love
Distance for wanting
Love disposed
Tears for pleasure
Abandoned at the door step of Ruth
© 2010 Olivia M. Jackson

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