SPRING DEER

He did not know what he was doing.
His brain was addled from the long winter - 
there was no more food in his part of the woods
His coat was getting dull
It was a matter of survival -
stealing into the orchard
to nibble at the blueberry  buds
just before the sun peeked in the horizon.
He was careful to stay hidden
behind the trunk of the big mulberry;
He had already made the owner quite angry
by his intrusions.
He was going to run
across the mounds of snow
just as he used to
    but he was 
    so hungry

         so hungry

             he had to eat

	         and 

                     eat 

		as much 

		as he 
			could eat.

he did not hear
     the house door creak

or 
     the shotgun's squeak

he did not heed
his sprinting herd

but he did 
feel
the   kiss 

of 

        lethal 
                    steel.


~~~~~~

For DVerse Poets' Anthropomorphism prompt by Lillian.

A KISS IN THE SNOW

Deer
It is a kiss
like no other –
heartfelt
tender –
that began
when your eyes lit up
when you saw mine
across the room
and you came to me
as though you’re drowning
in need of air.
Your lips met mine
like a butterfly
landing on a flower.
No words capture
the spell
binding us even more
nor the wish
that such moments
stretch to forever

~~~~

WPC:  WISH

DVERSE POETS’ PUB Open Link Night

ON THE STREET WHERE WE LIVE

my-street

Outside my window there are the same roads
there are the same people walking their dogs
There's old Mr. Magazoo taking his morning walk
and stopping by our neighbor's for some small talk

There are the old houses with bolted doors
standing on our street like abandoned forts
lurking unnoticed by cars zipping by
faster than the speed of two minutes per mile

Our place is  mostly quiet at this time of the year
when most everyone seems to disappear
inside thick coats,  behind insulated walls
as chilly  wind blows and heavy snow falls

Yet on Thursday nights the sidewalk sprouts
trash bins so full they are  ready to burst
but for  the old lady pulling  a  kiddie wagon
collecting  redeemable plastic  and soda cans.

Late in the mornings, the mailman comes
by our barking dog, he is announced
delivering store fliers, bills, and junk
and the occasional boxes  from Amazon.

Oh! Spring just cannot come soon enough
to fill the ground with dandelions and buttercups
to make the air groan with the mower's roar
and return the  blossoms back in their bower.

There will be the parade of mothers, their kids in tow
to the not-so-nearby playground, they will go
passing  green-thumbed folks tending their gardens 
to plant some petunia, geranium, and impatiens.

Before then, I wait – watching the melting snow
listening to the engines throbbing as they go
With any (ill) luck, some unusual thing  occurs
such as  screaming breaks and totaled cars. 

~~~~~

Written for:  DVerse Poetics - Suburb Poetry

THE DAY AFTER (WPC: Seasons)

Winter Road

We are having a very mild winter so far.  Today, we have a high of 48 degrees F.  The sun is bright and the grass is green.  In a region that is normally covered with snow at around this time, I heard the sound of lawnmowers  several weeks back, i.e., before we had our first major snow storm sometime in late January.  These pictures were taken on the morning after the storm.  A week later, we had our coldest temperature to date – minus 8 degrees.  That froze the ponds and the surface of small bodies of water around us overnight but the 50 degree weather we had the following days immediately thawed the ice.

Winter Woods

I am not complaining though.  Winter is my least favorite season.  I do not like being cold all the time.  I do not like bundling up each time I need to step out of our house.  I am fully a child  of the tropics after all.  I know the snow is quite beneficial to us.  It assures a steady water supply in our region.  But even without the snow, our area did not want for any water.  What did not fall as snow came as rain.  We had so much rain that water seeped into our basement walls and floor.

Sometime in December, I wrote a short poem to remember the relative warmth of the season –

December Spring

How green the grass is
in December, the sparrows want for nothing
to eat. Rose buds cling to the bush
biding their time to open
The flowering trees are plump
with the blossoms of spring
when the snow comes
what rude awakening.

There have been some years when winter seemed to make up for lost time. I remember a year when temperatures in May hovered around the twenties and the soil remained frozen. I remember getting so antsy because I could not begin planting and hardly any bulb was breaking through the ground. Will winter make up for its absence this time? If it does, I hope it does so soon as to let spring reign in its proper time.

WPC: SEASONS

HOPE

Misty Road

We dream.
We plan.
We take our steps with hope
for only hope can carry us through
fear paralyzes.
who knows what awaits
what doors will open
what doors will close
with each choice we make.
We cross the threshold
fear has drawn
holding on
to the tender mercies of God.

 

~~~~~

 

I was cleaning my WP boxes and came across this old draft of a post.    After some re-drafting, I thought the piece is OK enough to be published.  🙂  I guess, I am explaining why I am posting a wintry photo at this time of the year.

 

Happy day to all of you.

UNDER THE FALLING SNOW (for WPC: Off Season)

For this challenge, I am sharing some photos of students in between classes. The pictures were taken in December. I was getting winter tired by then and did not have the spunk to post photos that had to do with snow. Considering that the temperatures hereabouts are already starting to sizzle, I thought that the OFF -SEASON theme gives me the perfect chance to share this little tidbits of student life. 🙂
Texting 1IpodTexting 2lunch

Little Red Texting Hood3

 

And last, here is something that does not belong to the group but I am including nonetheless just because it is out-of-season –

Shopping

though shopping never really goes off-season, or does it? 🙂

Thanks for coming by.  Happy weekend.

 

~Imelda