Out in the Cold

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What do birds do on frigid winter nights?
Huddling cold together they shiver and shake;
Snow falling //a million different shapes;
Layers fields with diamonds// all catching light.

When winds howl, I’m snug // asleep in my bed
Birds have no blankets // no warm comfy house
Out in the cold sleeping under pine boughs
No place of protection to lay their heads

We can’t house all the birds in warm delight.
The same true with people, which makes me sad;
Many live in fear // no beds to be had;
While the rest of us live // sleep well at night.

In spite of the cold most birds do survive;
Third world people struggle to stay alive.

Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Today is open link night at d’Verse and Grace reminded us of the loss of a great poet, Mary Oliver, who loved writing poems about her experience in nature. I decided to write this sonnet as a tribute to her love of nature and the questions she might ask.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

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Winter Oak

 

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Majestic oak sits

Cold and alone //  Sparkling

Waiting for Christmas

Frozen fenceposts decorate

Snow-covered fields // Nature’s Gift

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

The Sweet Chill

Ice Tea photo

Smooth and cold you slid over my warm tongue
Chilling everything around that you touch
Yet when you feel my warmth you go to tears
How hard your core when left out in the cold
Waiting to melt that hard exterior
Frigid until finding that drink we all love
Changing states // floating in your own essence
Bringing pleasure to young and old alike
Cooling the heat // bringing a chill // you will
Bring pure pleasure on a hot summer day
Smooth as you melt on my tongue // sweet iced tea
Ice cubes filling the glass

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse Gina asked us to consider the common ordinary things of life and write a poem describing them. I chose the common ordinary ice cube that we put in our glass every day never once thinking about its make up or wat it does for us. Taking it, and all of life for granted we tend to miss some of the small ordinary things like ice cubes.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

They Still Bleed Red

 

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A month ago, I shared that it would be the last night for the roses. Frost was predicted, came, and went. But the warm NC sun soon revived them. Buds continued to open and in spite of cold nights, living up to -their name: Knock-Out Roses. Now a month later, the petal edges are singed in black, but they are still bright red in the sunshine.

Against cold assaults
While frost shrivels all around
Roses still bleed red
Undaunted by winter’s freeze
Leaves succumb // Roses bleed red

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Photo taken today: Dwight L. Roth

Fukuroo-Owl (a Hai bun)

See the source image

FUKUROO-OWL ( a Hai bun)
Stomping the snow off my boots, I unlocked the heavy oak cabin door and gently pushed. It gave a painful screech as it swung open on dry hinges. Split wood for the stove was stacked neatly against  the wall. Pine kindling from the wooden box soon got the wood in the stove burning. Warmth from the fire soon filled the room.
It was early evening as I looked out the back window onto the wide snow covered field. Bent cornstalks poked through the snow, like a regiment of old broken down soldiers returning home from the Civil War. A row of tall yellow pines lined the edge of the field.
As the full moon rose above the treetops, an eerie light flooded the open field. It was then I noticed what looked like a ball of white, perched on a high limb, just beyond the back porch. A second look revealed a Fukuroo Owl intently surveying the garden below. A slight movement told him there was a field mouse searching for leftover kernels of corn. Airborne in an instant, the owl swooped down from his perch for a pre-aborted landing. Talons clutched the ill-fated mouse, as powerful wings lifted them both back to the trees.
Cold contemplation
Night vision detects doomed mouse
A warm lunch is served

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Owl Photo:  wallpaperart.com

I missed the prompt for Fukuroo-Owl Hai bun challenge.  So I decided to write one anyway. Here is my attempt.  (A Hai bun is a poem with a short prose followed by a haiku relating to the story.) The Fukuroo-Owl is the Japanese Snowy Owl.

 

It Won’t Be Long

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With the East Coast of the U.S. stuck in the deep freeze, I thought that it might be good to remember that spring is just around the corner.  When I hear the frogs in the late evening I will know the worst is over. I guess I am just dreaming of warmer weather!

 Frogs of Spring  

Shivering in the grip of winter

Avoiding the cold wind…

I sit in my chair and remind myself

That soon this too will end.

When the hoarfrost is gone

With the ever rising sun…

The earth will thaw.

The woods will ring

With a hauntingly familiar hum.

A chorus of frogs

Singing their mating calls…

Looking for one another

To celebrate the thaw.

 

When I hear that song rising

In the cool clear air…

I know spring is near

Flowers will soon be here.

 

As frogs of spring

Shout out their joyous song,

Joy springs in my heart.

I know it won’t be long…

Till with the frogs of spring

I too will sing…

Along with that symphony of joy

By the woodland’s throng

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Coffee & Love

Coffee and Love

As I take one last sip

Of morning coffee,

I think,

how similar

it is

to romantic love.

Steaming Hot!!

Enough to get burned

at the start.

Warm enough to enjoy

with added shots of Hot

Inspiration.

Cooling down to tepid

when left set

too long unattended.

Heat and flavor’s gone…

Nothing left in the pot…

Throw out

What remains.

Perhaps brew a new pot…

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Clipart: dreamstime.com

 

The Beach has Soul

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The Beach has Soul

Went to the beach today only a week into spring

Sunshine a cool breeze and no phone to ring

Drove three hours for a day of fun

 

I asked myself why we go through all this

But for her it‘s worth it a moment of bliss

Sand dunes with beach chairs lugged across

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Better than summer I love this time of year

The waves are gentle the sky is clear

Low temps warm sun less people to deal with

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Families know it’s all about kids

Shovels sandcastles and coolers with lids

Running and squealing with each cold wave

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It is now seven-thirty see the sun’s orange hue

Can’t believe those kids are not turning blue

Three little ones still playing in the icy cold waves

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The ocean’s beauty draws all to its shores

The beach has soul we keep coming back for more

Sunburns and jellyfish riptides and grit

Memories of fun we will never forget

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Photos of Myrtle Beach, SC:  Dwight L. Roth

 

Shooting Star

Seek out and connect with people who help and encourage you. Those who help shape your future should be people of light not of darkness. It is really not that hard to tell when someone is the real thing. Listen to their words. Words give you away every time. Be authentic and surround yourself with the same! I am grateful to the stars in my life who have helped me become the writer I am today. To them I say, Thank You!!

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Shooting Star

Have you ever hitched yourself

To a shooting star

Only to find that person was really

A comet flying through space

A cold solid chunk of ice and rock

With no life of their own

Living off the shinning reflections

Of other stars around them

Find yourself a star

Burning brightly

Full of passion and fire

Warm caring light for all

Better yet

Be that shinning star

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Clip art photo:  gographic.com