I am not ready for your dragging days
You make them so short. At my house,
you never know whether to be sleet or snow.
If you must come,please bring big snowflakes
that sift over limp grass and then cardinals
will ornament the trees. You ice the deck that the dog
and I have to traverse. Shrubs succumb to your weight,
never regaining strength to stand erect again.
And your frost freezes to the windshield like glue.
Do send deep blue skies with sun sparkling off iced
tree limbs to let me know that warmer days are ahead.
Don’t tease us with the smell of spring only to slam
the door shut with a storm. Most importantly,
leave as quietly as you came.
Barbara Brooks is a retired physical therapist living in North Carolina and a member of the poetry group Poet Fools. She is an avid birder and has traveled extensively throughout the world viewing wild birds in their natural habitat. She frequently incorporates nature in her poetry as an extension of her love of the outdoors. She has two chapbooks: The Catbird Sang and A Shell to Return to the Sea. She has had published poems in a number of eclectic journals such as Jellyfish Whispers, Tar River Poetry, Peregrine and Third Wednesday, and Silkworm.