Winter’s End

It was a white morning,

a wintery morning.


Trees held their breath

and birds cawed,”survival, survival.”


I went out wrapped in layers of soft

against the brittle air throwing

stinging kisses against my face.


The sky was white and grey

like angry pearls.


And then – daffodil leaves,

green buds, strong,

pushing out through

the white layer of snow.


The daffodil bloomed in my mind,

the yellow opening, the promise of sun …


in that moment,

the brittle morning broke.

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Joy Sings

Joy sings
from every tree,
trills and whistles
embrace me.

Spring shines
with buttercup eyes
as tiny wrens
flit on by.

I came dark
with winter’s grief,
eyes and roots
hiding deep.

Rising up
from memory,
cloud-hearted days
are lifting me.

Here is another joyful poem, hoping it lifts your spirits, dear readers.-Giulietta

Fire of Spring

She stands at the
star of the hill,
red hair curling
and unfurling
like a flag.

We quicken
to see her,
with foot, fur
and seedling
heart.

The nights
were deep,
we lost
countless things
in the dark.

Now she
crests the hill
red, fire.

So bright she is,
the darker stars
fade out
and the candles
in our hearts
flame again.

Dear readers, to those of you transitioning from winter to spring, may you find new fire for your dreams and schemes.

Last Snow

Birds, twigs
in beaks,

busy as a
flurry of snow
in the not-yet Spring.

Dust motes
floating, falling
blowing horizontal,
busy bright
in the light
of the sun.

Yellow tulips
on my windowsill –

Winter holds
to snow bones.

Lengthening days
welcome the flight
of birds, of us.

Others stop here.

Snow, busy busy
covers all who
choose to remain

those who are
not fleet-winged

those who are still,
asleep.

After warmer weather the snow has returned to Cambridge, UK. And this is to those lost from the world this winter, claimed by the season.

Morning in Spring

Morning trees
wink emerald leaves
and clouds drift across
sky blue eyes

bird nests bloom
in a caress of wings
flowers wear colors
of surprise

summer will know
giant days
bright and slow
sleepyheads doze
in green pastures

but here’s a soft
morning in spring
a breeze through it all
like laughter

Garden Friend

Peck little peck
Bright heart, shining breast
A yellow suit
His Sunday best

All the morning
His chirping song
Cheers the sun
And day grows strong

Sunlit rainbows
Flashing wings
When he sees me
I swear he sings

Long may you peck
My garden friend
You soothed the cares
From my heart again

Garden Wild

I live outside
of things.

I creep close
to the bushes
and grunt
in the leaves
with the hedgehogs.

I breathe in
sweet jasmine
I breathe out
all the houses
I used to know.

My dress hangs
on a rose thorn
in a closet of
moonlit marigolds.

I am captured by
green wild owl
eyes and
none of the places
I used to know.

My face turned
towards sun
my heart a
flaming bird
burning as it goes.