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Jesse stillwater Dec 2018
In a distance an emptiness echoes,
another lonesome dove's sigh
is carried away with the leaves

silence annulled by tempest gusts
as late autumn winds
belatedly lay bare the trees;

the sad song in the wind
repined for golden days
bowing sun ripened amber fields
dancing with the moment's sway

now windswept wild feathers  
chase after the waning sunlight
bucking prevailing headwinds
just beneath heaven's glow

sail away! — sail away!
way up on high!
O' birds of a feather
sail away!

begone — bygones — begone
homeward bound
from north and south
on  an algid heavenward flight


Jesse Stillwater ... winter solstice ... 2018
lynnia hans Jun 2018
fairies dancing in the midsummer night
flying to the nearest height
making magic and beautiful giggles
shimmering their love in beautiful sprinkles
live to the breath of mother earth
giving her new life forever first
Breon Apr 2018
Let's bask atop this spinning stone
Where sun-glow sears the soles and skin
Until it reaches bleaching bone
And kisses it 'til wearing thin.
Let's savor summer's coming-home
As if it never will again.
The heatwave scorches off our fears
And sets us free. Scream joy and tears.

The blacktop, lapping at your heels
Like hellhounds barking out dog days;
The noonday shadows' faint appeals
All stifled in the phoenix blaze;
The April blossoms wilt and peel.
Their season's passed. They cannot stay,
Not while the sun is in its power,
We'll watch them die within the hour.
I hate summer. Spring may be the kindest season, but autumn seems more honest.
Dawnstar Dec 2017
I ride through the birkwood,
Passing snowbanks on every corner.
Day's end light blinds me.
Holiday joy turns bittersweet in my eyes,
And my lips are as dry as the air.
A fellow stranger sits by me....
Does he know he shares my name?
...Oh well, I hear a cawing:
From the window I see a hundred crows,
Circling the frozen river....
Friends laugh in the courtyard,
But I will be lonely tomorrow.
Paul Butters Dec 2017
In this quiet corner of Cleethorpes
Serene somnolence soothes my soul.
Growling dark clouds make it feel like night
Lying above the whispering mists
On this dank dreary day,
Though mild this year.

The sun rose at eight fourteen
And will fall at three forty two.
For it is indeed the shortest day
Of 2017.

Tomorrow will be
A whole Two Seconds
Longer.

So by around the twenty fifth
Of this December month
We’ll reach that time
When the Ancients saw it getting lighter
And chose to Celebrate
Big Time.
For so the Festive Season
Began
All to Enjoy.

Many a religion has latched onto this
Annual Event.
So it’s Party Time
All over the World.
Time to reflect
And turn our eyes
Towards the Future.
Hoping again for Peace and Love
To Everyone.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\12\2017.
On a dark, dreary (cloudy) day..... (This time I went straight to my "poems" then "drafts" to find and post this after that wretched warning).
harlon rivers Dec 2017
Gray Owl hearkens
the dappled daybreak knell
echoing through
the wildwood forest stand;
rock doves and frosty stones abide,
where a marooned heart doth dwell,
disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch

Timber stand grips tight
red clay and bedrock of ages,
postured tall and strong
as eagle's spirit throne

Pine cones hide
in the low drifting clouds,
ripe acorns tumble down alone
unto  a  windblown
shallow earthen grave,
hillocked  beneath
the sky-high canopy

Bones of branches,
furrowed bark from burled oak,
wood-grains of pith,
natural gnarled achings
peeled by the shivering
wind's breath

Paling autumn memories
grow dim as the receding sunlight,
recollections of ebbing Jasmine's
mellowing fragrant balm
waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy,
the edge of winter metamorphosis
bears down with a prodigious weight
of a different kind of retreating light;

brindled Queen Anne's lace
hold sway across
the tawny frostbitten meadow
imbuing the poignantly
whetting breeze

The blink of an eye winks,
to catch sight of
an intimate glimpse,
an unspoken
solitude holds forth,
the mesmerizing coo of rock doves,
reverently mirroring
the sanctity of the forest wildwood
lingering amongst the frosty
ferns and stones

The harmony of tranquil silence wanders;
only the bowing resistance of the boughs
manifest the shapeless wind’s
whispered  breathe
swirling above the labyrinth threshold;

therein lies an unfractured fault line
rooted deeply beneath
the earth’s crust
like the sonorous heart
of a sanctuary hearthstone

Hence there is symmetry
felt in silence that only whispers
in the deep toned consonant
of our own harbored sighs

a holy human blood link
born of  heritage wilderness heartwood
beats keenly alive


written by:   harlon rivers ... December 2017
Notes: Midwinter orifice into the North-woods

Thank you for looking through a soul's portal at winter solstice
B H H Burns Jun 2017
On the longest day
The sun barely blinks, then sets
Her sights on Winter
Inspired by #NatureVerse prompt 'on the longest day' and the summer solstice
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