Winter Fox Wakes Not The Flowers
As dawns winter breeze raps her damp chill around the still trees,
The morning sun peeks and sends meagre warmth to grasp,
Black clouds unwanted hurry by, leaves rustle to please
That turns from green to sunshine silver not to last.
A solitary fox stands out crossing a snow clad field
Silent stealth, as if not to wake sleeping spring flowers,
Knows natures shopping cart as not much to yield
Then changes tracks into the cover of the forest wooden towers.
Nothing is growing all conserving for the burst of spring,
Then the fox appears prey in mouth he caught as he leapt,
His family snug in his den knowing sustenance he will bring.
Life goes on living to natures rule for the adept
poem by Ken e Hall
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Redbud Peeks
Redbud peeks
Beyond the showy white dogwood.
The wet Spring breeze blows soft,
As the thick smoke clouds race low across
The unseen sky.
Rust pink maple seeds
And Spring green leaves,
Shudder among the dark green pines.
The whistling wind and waving tawny grass
Bid the last Winter cold, 'Be gone! '
Let the warmth of Spring day sun arrive. 'Goodbye! '
(4.13.9 Waterfall)
poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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Victoria's Weather
On fifth day of September five days into the Spring
The currawongs the birds of rain on the high gum trees sing
And weather back to Winter change and chill the breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
In latter days of Winter the weather nice and fine
And morning paddocks gray with frost that melted in sunshine
And temperatures rose through the day to near twenty degrees
And warmth in the sunshine and warmth in the breeze.
Victoria's weather changes quick it's always been that way
And a heavy shower of cold Spring hail has left the garden gray
A high of five a low of two that's what the forecast say
In the only place that you will get four Seasons in one day.
The currawongs the birds of rain sing on the tall gum trees
On this the coldest day of Spring it's only five degrees
And through the wood on Selby hill the chilly breezes blow
And it's been hailing all the day and cold enough to snow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What Spring Brings
I enjoy what Spring brings.
The freshness of the air,
Supplied by the budding of leaves on trees.
A warming of a breeze that once could freeze.
The brightness of flowers,
As extended daylight hours come.
This rebirth witnessed is welcomed.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
And what that means as Winter melts.
A commitment seems to be given,
To all living beings.
As Mother Nature delivers.
An evolution of beauty,
Slowly growing upon us to know.
How valuable we are to God.
And how this is bestowed.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
The singing of the birds.
The blue of the sky,
And the grass so green.
The laughter of children and the innocence of it all.
The presence of promise...
A remembered frost seemed to have stalled.
I enjoy what Spring brings.
Appreciating I do...
The giving Spring brings with its offerings.
The kind only this time Spring can bring!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Today A Back To Winter Day
Today a back to Winter day a chill is in the breeze
In early Spring in Victoria we do get days of under fifteen degrees
Today between the heavy showers a brief burst of sunshine
Yet compared to the heavy rains of yesterday today seems even fine.
September came in with a sunny smile only twelve days ago
But the past few days seem so different it seems cold enough to snow
Old Winter goes into early Spring some have been known to say
In that assumption there's some truth or so 'twould seem that way.
A pair of young red wattlebirds out of their nest unable yet to fly
Their parents utter their warning cries if danger lurks nearby
Each passing hour to them makes a difference tomorrow they might enjoy
With the help of their strengthening wings the freedom of the sky.
Today a back to Winter day though bursts of sunshine between the showers
And raindrops glittering in the sun on the beautiful wildflowers
Old Winter goes into early Spring and a chill is in the breeze
Though frail pink blossoms are in bloom on the nectarine trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Morning In Late June
In the cold depths of Winter the grey butcherbird sing
And only nine weeks or thereabouts till the first breath of Spring
Five days ago of daylight hours the year's shortest day
And time it keeps ticking and ticking away.
The drake in the pond performs his courtship display
As he swims by his mate he nods his head her way
And he quacks to tell others she belongs to me
He will be the father of her family.
The buds on the camellias beginning to sprout
In the coldest of Winter their blooms will be out
They will be cloaked in flowers by the end of July
When the chill winds of Winter blow across the sky.
A morning in late June a chill in the breeze
And the rainbow lorikeets chirp on the flowering gum trees
As with their tongues they sip nectar from the pink gum flowers
Amongst leaves rather wet from recent heavy showers.
The sky clouded over and a chill in the wind
And the first month of Winter is close to an end
And old father time he keeps ticking away
And Spring is approaching with each passing day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A hint of green for M'Lady Lucianne
Today I saw the first small signs
of Mother Natures Spring Designs.
Some tiny leaves of tender green
against the bare twigs to be seen.
The hedgerows will be clad anew.
Though it will take a week or two.
We will say goodbye to winters reign
and welcome back the spring again.
The sun grows stronger day by day
and blue replaces skies of grey.
My old bones will appreciate
the warmth although they’ll have to wait
A little longer for relief
I am quite sure it will be brief.
24-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Spring Shine
The warmth Spring, soft touch my face
With bloom the flowers everywhere
The sunshine meets the blue skies
Watch the beautiful morning
Feel the flowers of spring, so fresh,
The morning of spring fills with joy
I dream of touching the moon light,
Staying in the heaven
Where, I will call his soul
And sweet moment spent with him.
The warmth breeze, whispered to my ears
With the happiness of sharing life together
Listen to the soul of the spring
Where, I ‘all dream of the perfect love
Till I give my life to him.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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Seasons
Enjoying the walk, with no talk
the air so crisp, the breeze so light
the sun so bright
the leaves are changing, falling in range
the animals storing for a cold winter night
the coats are hanging, will be changing
the seasons are changing so rapidly
where did the summer go
the fall so beautiful, the sunsets so breathless
the rain so cold, the clouds so gray
changing to snow, and growing
waiting for spring to bring
the green and the dream
of beautiful flowers and the gift of life
to the season change
but we love the changes of all
circle of nature, the beauty it brings
for all to sing, giving me spring
poem by Michael Peterson
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
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April
'T is the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird
In the wind-shaken elm or the maple is heard;
For green meadow-grasses wide levels of snow,
And blowing of drifts where the crocus should blow;
Where wind-flower and violet, amber and white,
On south-sloping brooksides should smile in the light,
O'er the cold winter-beds of their late-waking roots
The frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal shoots;
And, longing for light, under wind-driven heaps,
Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps,
Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers,
With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers
We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south!
For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth;
For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God,
Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod!
Up our long river-valley, for days, have not ceased
The wail and the shriek of the bitter northeast,
Raw and chill, as if winnowed through ices and snow,
All the way from the land of the wild Esquimau,
Until all our dreams of the land of the blest,
Like that red hunter's, turn to the sunny southwest.
O soul of the spring-time, its light and its breath,
Bring warmth to this coldness, bring life to this death;
Renew the great miracle; let us behold
The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled,
And Nature, like Lazarus, rise, as of old!
Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness has lain,
Revive with the warmth and the brightness again,
And in blooming of flower and budding of tree
The symbols and types of our destiny see;
The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole,
And, as sun to the sleeping earth, love to the soul!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Spring Did Come.
Spring did come,
On butterfly's wings.
On a flitting bird,
And the song it sings.
Spring did come,
When the flowers bloomed,
When it filled the air
With a sweet purfume.
Spring did come,
On the morning's breeze.
Spring did come,
On budding leaves.
Spring did come,
On blades of dew.
Spring did come,
In skies of blue.
Spring did come,
With a joyous ring.
Spring did come...
Welcome, Spring!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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How January Is Propelled To Spring
Chill January’s snow falls thick and fast
Propelled by blinding blizzard’s biting blast,
So soft white blankets bind the earth for days,
Though spring means drifts shall not lie long nor last.
Bleak January’s rain falls hard and long
Impelled by fierce Atlantic gales, full strong
So even mighty oaks bow in their wake
Till fury fades to calm in spring’s sweet song.
Wild January’s storms shall shed their sting,
Repelled by sun, as winter spins to spring,
So kinder, temperate breezes gently blow
To melt the snow, that all the fields can sing.
Mean January’s curse will never stay,
Dispelled by hopes of ever-lengthening day,
So gardens don spring coats of cheerful hues
As colour’s charm returns where all was grey.
Cruel January’s cloak of white shall yield,
Compelled to turn to green in springtime’s field,
So leaping lambs can clothe the hills again
And cattle quit the comfort of the bield.
Grim January’s gloom will end, by mirth
Expelled, as warmth returns to cheer the earth,
So birds will nest and leaves begin to spring
And dormant buds burst, bearing brand-new birth.
Harsh January’s coldness is compelled
To change, as dismal drabness is expelled.
Repelled by spring, impelled, the frost must flee;
So, doubts dispelled, to warmth we are propelled.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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My Four Seasons
I gaze out through my window to the colours of the leaves,
Reds and browns and yellows floating like fairies from the trees.
I follow the as they burst alive and dance among the breeze,
And my smile is echoed effortlessly in the colours of the leaves.
I peer out through my curtains to the snow upon the ground,
Dreaming of the diamonds drowsily fluttering from the clouds,
Strewn across the hedgerows and the fields and all around,
The snow lies peacefully sleeping, a jewel upon the ground.
And look! - all of a sudden grow the bluebells in the wood!
Swaying happily to and fro, just like they always should.
And as the spring awakens, rusty from the flood,
The sun begins to shine upon the bluebells in the wood.
At last, through my curtains I see the flowers of July,
Their beauty almost mirrored in the sunshine in the sky,
And I see the tuplips grinning as a bright blue butterfly
Lands upon the petals of the flowers in July.
poem by Twilight Whispers
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Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Welcome To Our Canadian Spring
We welcome thy coming, bright, sunny Spring,
To this snow-clad land of ours,
For sunshine and music surround thy steps,
Thy pathway is strewn with flowers;
And vainly stern Winter, with brow of gloom,
Attempted for awhile
To check thy coming—he had to bow
To the might of thy sunny smile.
A touch of thy wand, and our streams and lakes
Are freed from his tyrant sway,
And their clear blue depths in ripples of gold
Reflect back the sun’s bright ray;
Whilst e’en the rude rocks that their waters fret
Put on mosses green and bright,
And silent, deep homage render up now,
Sweet Spring, to thy magic might.
And what words could tell half the wond’rous change
Thou mak’st in our forest bowers,
Replacing the snow with soft velvet sward,
Cold crystals with glowing flowers;
Clothing the leafless, unsightly trees
In rich garb of satin sheen,
And robing the meadows and woodlands wide
In thine own soft tender green.
And the insect life that thy warm breath wakes
Now people earth and air;
And the carolling birds have come back to dwell
In the charms of thy presence fair.
Need we wonder all hearts with joyous beat
Watch the changes thou dost bring,
And, with smiles of gladness, welcome thee
To our land, bright, sunny Spring?
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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This Affair Belongs to Spring
Sweet is the smell of trees.
Budding in the sunlight.
When Winter has gone...
And Spring begins to spread.
Creeping from a Winter unforgiving.
Green are the grapes on vines,
Growing in some gardens.
Lifted are blades of grass,
Surrounding flowers yet to bloom.
Making room for Spring,
Has got to have Winter whimpering.
So much laughter now has passed,
With holidays and memories to last.
But stored and packed to dust.
Cleaning up we must for Spring.
To witness beauty Spring can bring.
When we are in fresh air...
It is easier to leave the past alone.
Leave it there!
This affair belongs to Spring!
And Sing we do
To reunite
What this all means,
As Mother Nature brings new scenes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Even if this summer is like none before (in answer to William Shakespeare)
Even if this summer is like none before,
with its dazzling flowers and fruits, even if none
other will ever be the same as this one
summers do not cease to exist and there will be one more
even is there is something to adore
and even preserving fruit, flowers, colours and tastes life goes on
and in winter natures lies asleep and quickly it is gone
with another great summer in store
and no one is truly bereft
when winter comes with its beauty
as if stuck in a cleft
when autumn, winter and spring appears with their own serenity.
nothing in a bottle can capture life, to have its essence left;
no human is apt in ability, to such profanity.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Early in the Spring
Early in the spring
Not a leaf has struck the ground
The swallow has yet to sing
And the plowmen are no where to be found
Early in the spring
The forest stands still
And no creature dare come out
Before the sun rises o’er the hill
Early in the spring
The valley holds the morning dew
And its serenity may be captured
By only a certain few
Early in the spring
The trees turn, brown to green
Many changes occur
But few can be seen
Early in the spring
Or in the latter of fall
No matter the change of season
The evergreen stands tall
poem by James Kent
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Love So Pure it Lastes all Season
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait in the spring's flowers
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait in the summer's sun
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait in the fall's breeze
Love oh love will thou wait for me
will thou wait for me in the winter's chill
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the spring, we shall run among the spring flowers and smell its morning dew
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the summer, we shall vask in its beautiful sunrays and splash in its cooling waters
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the fall, we shall play in its fallen leaves and sit beside the naked trees
Love oh love if thy waits for me in the winter, we shall play in its chilling snow and I shall build for you a wonderful snowman
Love oh love your waiting willth not been in vain for together we shall be someday
To you oh love I say may our love last as long as the seasons
poem by Darius Fields
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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