The snow crunched
Underneath my sandals
As I walked along the seashore.
It was there a grove of birch trees stood
Ever since childhood, I often swore
Yet I saw them stand tall no more
White as ever
And as banded as any snake
Yet their branches had broken and withered
In the time I had gone.
Ice had split the trunks in half and no matter how I tried to glue them back together
It was far too splintered and cracked
Winter had taken it's toll
On this Birchwood heart of mine.

Crystal gusts whistle—
fox paws print icy gravel
by evergreen pines

They hated the snow she provided them
So they can build their snowmen.
They angered her, so she froze them in,
And they wished and prayed for the sun again.

She brought them light and butterflies
To hush their mouths and halt their cries.
They asked for roses, beets, and tangerines.
She cried to grow their floral dreams.

Her tears halted their outside time,
So they begged and asked for more sunlight.
She stopped her tears and obeyed their request,
And brought bees, fireflies, and sweat.

The flowers she brought gave them flus.
The bees she gave stung them blue.
The sun scorched and burned their skin,
So they begged and begged for the cold again.

She blew wind to cool them off.
She showed colors of brown and apricot.
She left leaves and pinecones around their house,
But they raked them up and threw them out.

They angered her, so she froze them in,
With hopes to never see them again!
She did everything they requested,
But they hated her no matter what she did.

I remember when it used to snow.
I’d stare in awe out my window.
‘You’ll get frostbite!’ I was told.
Now, I’m old and it barely gets cold.

I remember when it used to snow.
Even at night, you could see it glow.
The birds would leave, but now they stay.
Even they’re confused in these “winter” days.

I remember when it used to snow.
O my, wasn’t it beautiful?
My niece questions on the way home,
“What did it feel like, the snow?”

Summer night give me hope that winter stole

I like summer—not in the "summer is the best" way—
but in the way the sky looks so clear, so infatuating,
While it hides lies beneath the blue.

I like how the summer wind gives me hope—maybe the promise can be fulfilled.

The summer night breeze carries a sense of comfort,
it reminds me of the good days,
reminds me how I got past the bad ones.
It tell me i can.
The cool wind, in contrast to the warmth—I love that.

Yet I hate summer.
I hate how the hope I buried so deep is floating again.
I hate how I think I might be able to do it now.
Summer kisses my forehead
then leaves me sunburnt,
And stupid with its light and hope.

I hate how the sun burns my skin,
while the hope burns my heart,
It scorchers my bones.

It reminds me of the past,
but not in the cruel winter way.
Rather—
in the "you are so brave, you got past that" kind of way.
It makes me feel like I’m someone.
Someone important.

I hate it.
I hate how the sky looks so beautiful,
The "remember when" moments,
The smell of rain on hot pavement;
the air that lingers with scents I love—
yet I can’t go outside.
The sun will burn me.

Summer makes me like i can do it but when i do
It leaves,
And, thats all it does.
Like it never loved me,
just the idea of saving me.

A snowman stood tall in the yard,
His scarf and his hat were both starred,
The children would play,
On that cold, festive day,
As Christmas arrived unbarred

The carolers sang with delight,
Their voices rang out through the night,
With joy in the air,
And warmth everywhere,
It was truly a magical sight.

The trees sparkled under the glow,
The world wrapped in winter’s soft snow,
The kids ran and cheered,
The season appeared,
And the fire in the hearth burned low.

But the sun rose more sharply each day,
The cold slowly started to sway,
He felt in his frame,
A loss he could name,
As the chill slipped away with the gray.

He knew his time was nearly through,
As the world changed from white to blue,
With a soft, final sigh,
He whispered, “Goodbye,”
And accepted the warm winds that grew.