Winter Moon

She sits forlorn, wrinkled and wizened on frostbitten grayish clouds under the veil of mist, determined to keep vigil in December chill warmed by distant embers of shining galaxies. She drinks from that half- filled cup of coffee left lukewarm on the window sill, breathing in the lingering scent of roasted peanuts and the luscious …

Bland Are The Moods of Winter

Benign and blameless~ the mist clad, bland morn of December, like a lingering gasp of cerise, yearns for polychromatic epistles scribbled on canvas of March, Robbed of lush verdure after transient lure of burnished golds, denuded boughs shiver beneath quilting heaps of winking snowflakes in the faint honeydew sunshine. Within frostbitten soil's depths the daffodil …

Winter is An Old Woman…

Winter is an old woman, her face mapped in wrinkles like frostbitten verbs, She sits on her haunches at dawn, gathering citrus-scented dewdrops from grass blades, while painting her dreams as azaleas in watercolors on hydrangea skies. Snowflakes are christmas baubles simpering treacle smiles in the lukewarm sunshine, hung on verdant limbs of frozen pines, …

Autumn Exuberance

kissing and tickling footsteps of departing summer, burnished foliage ~cinnamon confetti tinted in red, yellow and orange showered on solitude of dust trails fringed in dead grass, flies vagrant like syllables of a half-forgotten love-song~ lingering on crutches of fake confabulations. variegated are moods of verdure, stained by life's versatile experiences in graffiti hues born …

Alleys of December…

within silver boudoir of December, wrought in shivers of chill wherein pine trees stand tall with their aromatic sigh blending in ladled marmalade of snowflakes resembling citadels of sublime, and mornings are like warm treacle poured on landscape contours. Boreas howls through boughs covered in foliage rustles ailing with frostbite and knocks with invisible knuckles …

Moods of a Winter Morning

pine needles salt verdant blades of rustling poetry, on marmalade winter morns tinged in cerise tinted humilities, like wisps of snowflakes from tattered cloudy pillows caressing parched cheek wrinkles scratched in frost's fingernails in surreal honeydew kisses. the morning is a faded manuscript with illegible words shivering on parched blankness of frozen moments like blue …