20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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Autumn

Autumn’s fingers poke into
blue skies, coloring trees
crimson, orange, yellow and gold,
dusting them with wealth,
expectation of change this time of year.
Frost soon,
gregarious announcer of winter
hunches with gray shoulders as
if it were a cat stretching. An odd
justice creeps over the land,
killing summer, erasing fall, and
lighting the landscape with white
moments.
No
October treasure remains.
Pilfered, we trudge on toward December
quietly, steadily, with
ragged
slicing
teeth cutting into growth
under the snows.
Violence erupts, blizzard
winds whip with
extraordrinary power,
yammering temperatures to
zero.


December’s Denouement

I actually started this on 12/1 but had to force myself to finish it today…

Autumn exhales, long and slow
Spent - by the harvest
And the felling of leaves;
Tugging at the last brown stragglers.

The barren maples and birch
Palaver on winter preparations
Warily eyeing the constant conifers
Who hold tight their secrets.

Time is ever even but our division
Shifts toward the night. Drifts
From the light to algid evenings
Descending toward the solstice. 

And then, though imperceptible
Days stretch for the celebrations
Late in the season, late in the year.
December's denouement.

(c) 2012, Norman Dziedzic Jr.


Meteorologists

Tonight we’re due for snow, but look out there
at sun and warmth, no frilly white to wear.
I don’t think I believe the weathermen
who talk of snow again, and then again.

They taunt us, make us think that winter’s here
with their predictions. Nah, they’re just a mere
wish that their hopes align with ours, that soon
December struts its stuff beneath a winter moon.


First Snow

Another Quatern

I’ve just seen flakes, the first fine snow.
They do not touch the ground, although
soft-voiced they whisper, Winter’s here,
so
get out your cold-weather gear.

Soon they will fall with fury, blow,
those flakes I’ve seen, this first fine snow,
as underneath my hat I try
avoiding flaking from the sky.

December 10th, a day of firsts,
when whiteness falls in puffy bursts.
I’ve just seen flakes, the first fine snow.
More’s coming from the clouds that grow

with greyness through the coming days
to put upon the earth a glaze.
Just like a child I feel the glow
of these small flakes, the first fine snow.


Haiku

Soft paintbrush strokes bring
us to December. Watch for
spilling white gallons.

An ancient tree speaks,
each ring a life of its own.
The stories it tells.

Climbing through the dunes,
sniffing out spring violets,
barefoot once again.

The creek urges me:
Come out to play and splash. I’ve
been waiting for you.

A certain stone, flat,
gray, ordinary, special.
I collect and save.

 


5 Comments

Welcoming December

100_2673

 

 

December arrived three days ago.

I took down the Beach themed welcome sign and replaced it with this one.

I am trying to look at winter differently this year

I washed the windows to let in LOTS OF SUN

I have my crafts laid out on the table, in the sunny living room

I will make pretty things,  all the while watching the river and all the beautiful creatures

who will show up for food and water on the worst of days

Yes I will have the camera sitting at the ready to SHARE it all with YOU


December

December

 

This month is supposed to be fun

This month can make me so sad

Truly it is when winter has only just begun

It is the month children begin to worry about being bad

I miss my loved ones at this time of year

So many wonderful memories from past Decembers

For me though it will always bring a tear

December will always be a time to be grateful and to always remember


4 Comments

December

Talk to me, December.
Tell me where you hid the green.
What secrets do you hold inside your mittens,
under your hat?
You practice your seasonal math,
knowing the requirement for fourths.
Stick branches poke into the skies,
licorice or clarinet against the grayish-blue.
You hum your melodies composed of wind,
surprise us with the first fresh fall of snow.
December, culmination of the warming,
warmed, then cooled, now cold.

 


1 Comment

December?

A Silly December Poem

It’s 60 today and the sun’s shining bright.
I guess that the seasons just can’t get it right.
A couple of flakes fell on Thanksgiving Day,
but autumn is lingering. Skies are not gray.

I wonder why Earth has its story mixed up.
The weather’s been weird, like cake in a cup.
So what of December? Where’s snow and the cold?
It might come like a lamb, not blatant or bold.

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