Stalemate / Jeanne Blum Lesinski
“A hairy woodpecker, hidden on the trunk back, inched its way downward out of danger.” Jeanne Blum Lesinski writes on aviary drama.
Poetry
Pentwater, Winter / Karen Paul Holmes
“In hibernation, the town / didn’t stir when we arrived. / The dune frozen / lakes mostly ice.” Karen Paul Holmes shares a piece on a winter climb.
The Snow Fox Poem of Tornado Hill / Kiyoshi Hirawa
“Though why should a fox and poems obey / when my children do not, / slalom savants sledding sideways” Kiyoshi Hirawa writes on a winter day at the hill.
An Ode to My Dog Upon This Mid-Winter Storm / Shelli Rottschafer
“The cemetery is filled / now that it’s winter, a warm / winter I don’t like. I find / heated encounters with the living / tiring.” Camille Newsom shares a piece on winter.
DAILY LONGING / Camille Newsom
“The cemetery is filled / now that it’s winter, a warm / winter I don’t like. I find / heated encounters with the living / tiring.” Camille Newsom shares a piece on winter.
Heirlooms. Haikus, and Inheritance / Kiyoshi Hirawa
Kiyoshi Hirawa shares five translated haikus and a meditation on inheritance.
Snow / Greta Bolger
“This winter, bare pavement the last four weeks, birthday gifts for my grandson irrelevant: snow shovel, snow tube, snowball gun.” Greta Bolger writes on snow and its new absence.
In Winter, I Try to Write / BEE LB
“How many times have I written us into snow?” BEE LB writes on winter and wanting.
Four Versions of a February Morning / Bruce Gunther
“Shedding covers, stepping /
onto frigid hardwood – / feet like bricks of white marble / in the semi-darkness.” Bruce Gunther shares a piece on winter mornings at home.
Coldest Day / Bruce Gunther
“A dog’s bark several blocks away travels on the steady wind -a wind with sharpened teeth.” Bruce Gunther shares a piece on bitter cold and fine snow.
i think the cold is punishing me / BEE LB
the wind whipping through the edges / of my windows and doors. my unmade bed / and its frozen sheets. the blue / of the lake at night. the burnt haloes / of light all around. it’s like someone painted the world / but no one did. ” BEE LB writes on the frigid days.
Mid-December / Bruce Gunther
The morning crow / perched in the skeletal branches / of the maple remains silent / and flutters its crepe paper wings. Bruce Gunther shares a piece on snow and stillness.
Michigan Winter / Joanne Gram
“Stepped into a park covered in brown leaves / awash in a fine flurry of white snow” Joanne Gram writes on a season’s start.
half an aubade for december / BEE LB
“the sun is for gracing the lake on the best of days, warming the trees that reach tallest, thinning the ice without ever breaking.” BEE LB writes on the winter sun.
Applause / Terri Watrous Berry
Terri Watrous Berry shares a haiku on a season’s end.
Good Morning, the Sun in October / BEE LB
“i don’t know what changed / aside from everything, but the sorrow / that has been coiling in my chest like a snake / beneath a heat lamp has unfurled…” BEE LB writes on the sun in October, after Sanna Wani.
Fall Call / Derek R. Smith
“Fall, with its amber slowness, rich, dark early evenings, mouldering leaf piles.” Derek R. Smith writes on this slumbery season.
When I Was Young, The Woods / Ron Riekki
“they were insisting on owning / the world, the lake bathed in / leaves, the leaves falling on top / of leaves, so many that my little / brother would hide…” Ron Riekki writes on youth in the woods.
Breathing Color / Derek R. Smith
“Under auburn leafy canopy crystal chilled / Water rushes, bubbling, dancing…” Derek R. Smith writes on trees and reflections.
Not Gray Not Yellow / Elizabeth Kerlikowske
“My grandmother’s hat flies from her head / when the north wind grabs a raveling” Elizabeth Kerlikowske writes on ancestors and brisk wind.