exhausted from many days of reigning,
overcome by intoxicating smells
his defenses waned, his vigor consumed
a spent Winter contemplates taking a nap;
he dreams a dream that he'll never know,
of sweet scents and colors enkindling
and peacefully, just like that, he starts slipping away

by twilight, the atmosphere has shifted--
as swaying in the lightness of the breeze,
her veil entwined with fine-haired buds,
and her dress with wildflowers adorned--
a lively Spring glides in, radiant
bringing with her a promise of warmer days
and a delicious fecundity of fertility and lush
 
young grass spring forth in her footpath;
crinkly whispers from trees come aloud--
inch by inch budding twigs uncurl, boisterous
eyes half-closed, mischievous, she quiets them with a wave
lest they waken Winter from the misty dream
that's forever to remain a dream to the enfeebled old man 
as peacefully, he slips further away 

so in silence, she conducts her landscapes
and with a wave of her wand, they obey
in bursting sparks of wild symphony
pinks and mauves,
reds, orange, blues, yellows, and vermilion,
from atop the tallest hills descend
in waves and hues to color the day

while old-man Winter, still lulled by the sun
a puddle of warmth at his feet now
continues peacefully slipping away
until Winter is no more
and his dream of scents
and wildflowers aflame
spring forth-- a dream to us no more

© selma

Do you have time for a chat? If you don’t,
please scroll down to An Aside:

Up until last week, the atrocious-sounding winds kept me indoors. It’s a natural
phenomenon where drizzly weather occurs when the cool, moist air of winter
lingers past its welcome and goes chest to chest with warm, moist air that’s vying
for its turn to get in.

It’s intensified by coastal convergence, and the racket these two entities act out makes
for loud howling outdoors. I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire. I imagine the
winter-wind whipping, throwing air fists around at spring winds, and, missing, throwing
things around instead. Listening to the goings-on makes me shiver.

But spring seems to have found purchase. The days are so much more pleasant, that I go
’round opening windows to welcome the spring breezes into my humble abode. This,
too, is how I know for sure winter is finally over. Yessir!

How could I not go wild with the new season unfolding?
How could I not notice the shift?

What’s it like in your area?

Even the seasons experience such struggles. And sure enough, living the seasons as we
do, presents us with wonderful examples. Here’s how I read it: No matter how much we
might love or hate the moment we are in, change is sure to come. And after the
struggle of this or the other, the lessons that linger teach us about resilience and
growth. They help to move our story into a progression that works– all that from the
turning point of changing seasons.

Surely, though, this doesn’t explain natural disasters that destroy livelihoods. I know of
nothing good to say about those. I’m dumbstruck and pray for the safety of those
afflicted.

For them and ourselves, let’s try to harbor more gratitude moments in contemplation
of what we have and always remember that no matter how small, we play a role in
everything. Why? –because we are a part of the puzzle of this thing called life.

So dear reader, let’s seek out lessons in nature, ordinary days, quietude, and in
ourselves, as these are a few of the places where the answers, like fine hair on buds
and stems, will alert us to the beauty that lays dormant within.

Trust the change and accept that you’re right where you need to be today, and always
bring hope into the picture.

swaying in the lightness of the breeze, I see her;
head bowed in reverence of me
and so in reverence of her, I drop to my knees
to look into her buttercup face

winter is over
young buds ablaze everywhere
feel giddy and dance

An aside:

Dear reader, the way I see it, this will be the last post for March. I envisage a
busy April: As much as I am able, I wish to participate in National Poetry Writing
Month. I’ve loved it the last two years that I’ve joined Maureen Thorson’s prompts
and hope to do it again this year. Please lend me your support and if you’re so inclined,
please join in too. (Disqus is challenging for me, but I try to mingle).

That said, I also have two very exciting things happening this month, alongside
NaPoWriMo.

1. A childhood friend is coming to visit me this month. I will be away gallivanting
   with her and her family. So, do excuse me.
2. I have gathered plenty of courage (but hardly enough) to give book publishing a
   go. As things stand today as I write these lines, I will be talking with Ingrid
   from Experiments In Fiction about looking over my pen scribbles for possible
   publication of a poetry collection on Amazon. Now, this is super exciting. Wish
   me well, tell me I have your blessing, please. I’ll give you a heads-up about the
   progress I make.

THANKS FOR READING
I Wish You Miracles.
Main Image by djedj from Pixabay 

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Selma Martin

I’m a simple woman who dares to see the beauty in ordinary. I’d love to connect with you and like pen pals, I want something beautiful to blossom between us. Will you join me? Selma is my middle name. Its meaning—peaceful, complete, are euphoric affirmations I like to think of myself as having. They compliment the joy I feel when I write. I sincerely hope you decide to join me on my writing journey. I Wish You Miracles.

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