At the brisk dog end of winter

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At the brisk dog end of winter,

Rime clings yet to the petals’ edge,

A fading memory, silver splinter.

At the brisk dog end of winter,

When winds and tides are out of kilter,

Wild geese settle amid the sedge.

At the brisk dog end of winter,

Rime clings yet to the petals’ edge.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

10 thoughts on “At the brisk dog end of winter”

  1. one of the things bouncing around in my mind is trying to capture in some way that transition from winter to spring, the two neither gone nor here, but it has alluded me. This poem so exquisitely captures it.

    1. The roses carried on all through the winter here and we didn’t have any frost at all, but there always seems to be one rose that insists on flowering even when there’s a heavy frost. They look brave and plucky, but sad too.

      1. Yes, I like the way you put that.
        Here we did have frost and snow. I’m still in Chincoteague. We had beautiful sunny days the first couple of days, but then it turned cold and windy with rain and snow.

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