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Spring is coming,
I can smell it in the air.
The warm kiss of sunny days,
The sent of the Earth waking again.
Winter snows fall from their glinting glory,
Shrinking as they drown in the muds.
The puddles claim the sidewalk stones,
Now in their reflection, I know my face again.
My soul aches as the breezes pass by me,
Carrying the sweet scents of flower blooms.
If only I could grow wings,
I would follow them to their shining prize.
Spring, is coming.
I can feel the call of sunny days and grass on the Earth again.
Long and cold February
Yet the sun is beaming strong and steady
Strange time of year to have no snow
Making afternoon walks a gliding smooth flow


The air is crisp the wind is cool
With sunshine being my source of fuel
It provides us all with vitamin D
And gives that burst of energy

The days are growing longer
Bringing us out of night
I love this time of year
Cause winter has shown its might
#winter #spring #February #seasons
Lizzie Bevis Mar 14
Each morning grows a little longer,
with the courage of sleepy animals
waking up from their rest,
as March begins to
rouse nature awake
and everything once dormant
is now about to bloom.

The Snowdrops bow in peaceful prayer
like tiny prophets dressed in white,
offering a blessed hope
of a brighter tomorrow.
We begin to trust in growth,
and in the sure promise
of new buds unfurling
into cheerful green leaves.

Even the rain falls differently,
like a pattering rhythm,
unlike the sodden grey downpour
of a cold day in mourning.
The Sun begins to smile upon puddles
and changes them into
mirrors revealing
the cloudy bluing sky.

The air softens,
and the chill no longer bites
instead, it carries a fresh
breeze of new life
and so many possibilities.
March will bring something
so very beautiful,
and I cannot wait
to feel alive again.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Optimistically, I am happy to greet this new month with positive thoughts.
The only thing that makes me grumpy about March is the daylight saving when the clocks go forward and we loose an hour in bed on British Mothering Sunday of all days, but I think that I still deserve an extra hour in bed.

Bring on the Spring!! 🙂
Maria Feb 22
We’re different, you and me, we’re different
As if we’re made in different worlds indeed,
As if we’re fed on different dew furthermore,
As if we’re covered by different felt on creed.

We’re strange, you and me, we’re strange.
We should go away in all directions, in whole,
Not to be for all, not to touch each other,
To be walled-up behind different walls at all.

We’re crazy, you and me, we’re crazy.
We’ve tried to run away both so often.
But our fate has marked us with a “cancel” sign
And simply decided not let us go, just no one.

We’re different, you and me, we’re different
As if bitter frost and caressing spring in other way.
We have different palettes, you and me, different palettes.
But the canvas is one, one for two of us, anyway.

And we have to paint our further life by the will of fate,
In four hands on one canvas therefore.
You know, I don’t like to paint and I’m not good at it.
I’ll better hold the palettes for you evermore.
Spoilt and pampered season
indulged and petulant spring,
please don't pout and drag your heels
we need the light you bring,
the birds and bees are waiting
so could you make a start
be a dear, stop sulking
it's time you played your part
Asher Feb 20
she brings the rain, soft and slow,  
a hush of silver, a gentle glow.  
yes, i care for springtime bright,  
but care for nothing in her light.  

she brings the rain, the world turns grey,  
yet melts the clouds, she clears the way.  
in dawn’s embrace, so cool, so wide,  
she brings the rain, i stand inside.
inspired by a song i heard in the show euphoria
Spring, a hesitant touch, like the first unfurling of a fern.  Sunlight, a pale gold wash over new green shoots, mirroring the shy blossoming of our affection.  Stolen glances, quick as the darting of hummingbirds, a shared laugh, light as the breeze whispering through willow branches.  The air thick with the promise of something more, a burgeoning warmth that melts the last frost of doubt.  We walk hand in hand, the earth beneath our feet soft and yielding, a reflection of our hearts opening to each other.  The scent of hyacinth and damp earth, a heady perfume that intoxicates the senses, a prelude to the vibrant summer to come.

Summer, a blaze of color, a riot of sensation.  Days long and languid, stretching out like sun-drenched meadows.  Our love, a sunflower turning its face to the light, bold and unapologetic.  Passionate embraces, as fierce as a summer storm, leaving us breathless and renewed.  We swim in lakes, cool and dark, our bodies slick with water, mirroring the depths of our feelings.  The taste of ripe berries, sweet and ****, lingers on our tongues, a reminder of the sweetness we’ve found in each other.  Fireflies ignite the twilight, tiny sparks of light mirroring the fire that burns between us.

Autumn, a tapestry of russet and gold, a time of mellow reflection.  Our love, a vintage wine, rich and complex, aged to perfection.  Long walks through forests ablaze with color, leaves crunching beneath our feet like whispered secrets.  We gather close, drawn together by the chill in the air, finding warmth in each other’s arms.  The scent of woodsmoke and cinnamon, a comforting aroma that fills our home, a sanctuary built for two.  Our conversations deepen, like the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, exploring the hidden corners of our souls.  We are grateful for the harvest of our love, the bounty of shared experiences.

Winter, a blanket of white, a time of quiet intimacy.  Our love, a flickering candle in a darkened room, a beacon of warmth and light.  Snow falls softly outside, muffling the world, creating a cocoon of peace around us.  We curl up by the fire, wrapped in blankets, sharing stories and dreams.  Hot chocolate, rich and creamy, warms our hands and our hearts.  The silence is filled with unspoken words, a language of love that transcends all others.  Our bond, like the evergreen trees, remains strong and steadfast, enduring the harshest of winters.

And as the seasons turn again, as spring’s first blush returns, I long to walk this path with you once more.  Each bud, each bloom, each ray of sunshine, each falling leaf, each snowflake, a reminder of the beauty we’ve created together.  I want to relive every moment, every touch, every word, every season of our love, again and again, forever.
From my lesson in Picadilly's Write the Poem
Maria Feb 9
I’d like to talk about spring,
About nature’s breathe with fresh
And breezy mornings, sunny days,
About feelings in spring plesh.

I’d like to talk about love,
The one that takes you all, in whole!
It’s in your heart! It is inside!
It makes a magic just for all!

I’d like to talk about myself,
The one that I don’t even know,
About myself with different fate…
But truly, I guess I’d better go.
Maria Feb 8
I’m cold… You think I’m really fluey?
I’m not for sure… Maybe you’re right.
The weather’s nasty by mischance for now.
And I’m not wearing my cozy woolly scarf.

This February snows a lot and rages.
I’d like to wrap in plaid and not to leave.
I know it’s blues. I know for certain, sweetheart.
You shouldn’t get a feel for me. I’m peeve.

The spring will come. There will be a revival
Of new ideas, follies and delight.
And I will rise, I will return, my dear,
Better than previous. I will be vitalized!
nicole Feb 6
1-15-25   3:06pm

january
the month where i start to mourn summer
and forget about the sound of the ocean

birds migrating south
darkness by 5pm
layers upon layers of clothing

but we read more books
and the neighborhood cat seeks solace in your home
snow graces the ground
a contrast between light and dark
life and dormancy

a moment to pause
to release and let go
love
shelter
the promise of spring

a slower life

I guess January isn't so bad after all
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