I posted this last year in April as we waited for another snow storm. Now it is the end of February and we are waiting for a possible 8-10 inches of snow. I am tired of winter.
No soul can bear
the cold for length
So fly you crow
of winter.
The howling north wind
changing south
to bring the whispered
spring.
We ache to hear
the silenced song
of brook and bird
and bee,
So fly you
crow of winter
with your bracken
and your bones
I am so thirsty
my lips are split
my throat parched
my voice is gravel
I hear the whispered, “come”
I am so thirsty
face is blistered
arms beet red
my gait uneven
I hear the whispered, “come”
I am so weary
this wasteland walk
where’s the cup
that will quench my heart
I hear the whispered, “come”
by Miren
It’s winter and
the snow
is covering the city,
like hair on a
head…
if you use
your imagination
you could build a
snow fort with a bed.
The lake is frozen
and great for skating
though it is cold
…it’s beautiful
…it’s snow
…snow
…snow.by Miren Herbert
My granddaughter wrote this poem for me. She wrote it as she traveled to my house and was looking at all the snow and frozen lakes.
With fresh eyes
In the morning light,
I see the fog blanket
was laid last night.
Gently laid to
cover cattails
and fallen logs
to hide the pond
from moon and stars.
Laid so mice and frog
could rest
till daylight’s flame
would light the match
to show us
the rested tract.
I thought of her today
but it had been so long.
I was shaken for
I could not recall her name,
and tenth grade friends
cannot do much except be friends.I was so naive
and shocked by her use,
appalled by the boys
who took her for free.
She told me …
but tenth grade friends
cannot do much.She was lost in the wall.
A person unseen.
Her eyes were flat
and her hair was black.
The toll paid
in tenth gradeIt scared me to think
that I would forget…
I was sadly naive,
but now I grieve…
She died long ago-
the toll extracted,
the fine exacted,
so tired and sad.Her name was Anne.
If only tenth grade friends
could do more.
I had been reading something by Anne Lamont and suddenly remembered this friend from 10th grade. But I couldn’t remember her name. I remembered the layout of her house, being in her room, her talking about sex, but I couldn’t remember her name. I began to panic and dug out high school yearbooks. I feel like I must not forget her name. She deserves at least that much. She committed suicide about four years after graduation.
Open Ears 