Winter’s tales

Photo ©Lewis Collard

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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.

Bird dance

The Daily Post prompt is: pleasure.

Photo©Alexander von Halem

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The wild dance of the sparrows,

Sends dry dust flying,

And cool leaves fluttering.

Splashing with spread wings,

They squabble in scant puddles.

Hopping beneath benches,

Around stationary feet,

They bicker over bread crumbs,

Jostling the pigeons.

In and out of rose bushes,

They play hide and seek

In search of grass seeds,

Screeching with joy.

Sparrows dance the wild summer dance,

As only creatures can,

Who live their short and furious lives

Between two snaps of winter’s jaws.