Today is not only Groundhog Day but Candlemas and St. Brigid’s Feast Day, and apparently there’s a poetry slam going on. I suppose there’s a poem somewhere I could post.
Winter fills the empty sky
with a blue norther.
A wind blown from Borealis
powders the branches white,
frosting the tufts of grass.
Snow flutters to rest atop the drifts
from a low-hanging cloud,
barren maples planning buds
that are now bumps on bare limbs.
An elm bares its fingery branches, exposing the nest
Stuck high in its fronds.
Spring dreams under the fluffy white.
Green waits patiently to wake.