#Three Line Tales: Snow

For Sonya’s three line tales prompt.

photo by Clever Visuals via Unsplash


Robin sits on the empty feeder with feathers ruffled by the wind and cold combing through the fluffy down next to its skin.

The feeder is empty like the countryside, fallen quiet because they have all gone away, leaving only snow behind them.

Robin peers through the falling flakes, smells only winter in the wind and knows, somehow, in the cold creeping ever closer to the warm core of its tiny body, that this winter will never end.

On the night lake

Another of Paul Militaru’s photos with the lovely title of Night and snow over birds prompted this poem. Thank you, Paul!


On the night lake, grey gulls glide,

While snow falls thick upon the ride,

Where foxes pad and pheasants hide.

In summer waters small boats plied

Across the lake so smooth so wide,

Where mallards swim and grey gulls glide,

And many came here, sat and sighed

For lovers lost, for lovers died.

While snow falls thick upon the ride,

As cold as tears I’ve shed and dried,

Like stone I sit in lonely pride,

Among the gulls that drift and glide,

And wait for turning time and tide.


Winter’s tales

Photo ©Lewis Collard


In the north,

ice floes sail,

compact glitter,

trailing their cold embrace

through the glass green ocean.


Glistens the sun

on frost in winter meadows,

and the waning light

in rolling tears

when no one is there.


Cold wind carries the restless leaves

gathered in the earth’s lap,

where blackbirds sort the living and the dead.


All dead, the flowers,

glowers the cloud,

shrouds their remains,

chains of frost bedeck their bed,

dead winter’s feast,

least of all the sparrows shiver.