He shivers as he steps on the porch,
The sharp icy air gives a certain scorch.
As he steps out from the arbors protection,
out to where there is no affection.
A month or so later,
the boy feels oh so much greater.
The sun shining down,
where there is no such thing as a frown.
But now there is a long process to get from season to season,
and you get tired of Winter's cold and sharp treason.
So as we walk through the steps, enjoy the end of Winter's blast,
just as you did when it began and you said "At last!"
As Winter comes joy fills the world,
as snowballs get thrown and hurled.
The cheer, the bliss begins with a snow,
however you come to remember and know,
that Winter lugs on and on until Spring.
Though not very easy,
we must try to enjoy the breezy and sneezy.
So as the snow melts into the dirt underneath,
people will put away festive décor, trees, and a wreath.
People then change from heavy bundles of clothes,
and on to short sleeves is where the style arose.
The used-to-be snowflakes turn now to dandelion seeds,
flying to and fro, and landing where it needs.
A pleasing fragrant of Honeysuckle, Jasmine,
awhile bumble bees come flying, trying to get in.
Low and behold Spring is in,
while once a year it begins again.
Copyright © savannah feeler
I do not know?
Fallen snow will remind of me/ it is snowing ...
Slowly as in the dream/
Boy word-beads/ with signs on his spine/
He kisses fine/
Your eyelids /
And it snows ... It snows /so slow/
It does/ and you're thinking of me/
'Coz it's warm/ it's better to stay in warmth/
Waiting for summer dim/
It is snowing/ slowly like in the dream/
Flakes/ go round/ playing the music theme/
You've been looking for rescue/
You searched in wine/
But it's in me/
all the rescues are mine/
It is snowing/ the snow is fluffy and white/
If you see darkness/ I'm deaf and blind/
there's the cast of time/ on the arm/
But I discern the light/
Dreams/ upon your eyelids tips/
Prepare you for winter drowse/
And it snows/
Fallen snow/ will remind of spring /
it will crumble and crackle in vain/
It will snow / fluffy /white/ and slow/
And you'll become whole/
Copyright © Ilya Emelin
Early Christmas morning I glanced outside,
and no snow was falling, and suddenly a vision of a luminous light
with a trembling child appeared in sight...
and could this have been the Infant of prophecy and might?
And He softly said with the sweetest and kindest voice,
"I bring you no snow but endless love...the warmest flame
that makes every forsaken and unhappy heart rejoice;
it's a gift so gladly given to all the believers of this blessed age."
Struck by that splendid appearance, unafraid,
I ran to thank him for those wonderful words,;
and not having seen any gift under the decorated spruce,
I seemed puzzled, but not fearful or nearly surprised.
There it stood, my gift from that generous child with golden, curly hair:
a purple spring crocus never seen before, an Alpine flower
which grows in early April in every emerald meadow...
I leaned forward with much gentleness and plucked it from the cold snow.
When I stood up, he was gone and not a trace of him could be found,
and who was that cherub without wings...to leave that flower in the bitter cold?
Wasn't He the Christ Child who was born in a Bethlehem's abandoned stable?
And wasn't hope the meaning of the purple spring crocus so beautiful?
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
The Arab Spring
Saddam Husain, Mubarak and soon Assad
will go… and we can be jubilant and call it
democracy and freedom.
But this does not include the Christians,
In Iraq there are hardly any left, in Egypt
they are under attack and when Assad falls
the Christian Arab will hounded, those who
are no able to escape…killed.
The rebels in Syria we now supply weaponry
to will, like they are doing in Egypt, be ready
to enforce their odious idea of Islam.
We, in the west must, if we are upright take
In the refuges and not let them fester in some
camps and fed by the Red Cross.
Give our Christian brothers a new spring, far
from the battlefield of hate and ignorance.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
Would be like
And happy times
Life could be
For once a year
To live with
Christ each day
Why we celebrate this holiday
© Copyright 2004 Betty L. Hobbs
Copyright © Betty Hobbs
First comes Spring, with daisies and Easter eggs,
And little girls running around wearing their Sunday best.
My peony's start blooming, followed by
long walks with my dog, who is sniffing around
fire hydrants for the first time in 3 months.
The sun's eyes are open later,
While the moon takes his time rising deep in the horizon,
And the stars are just so much more,
Summer brings newness and fresh green everything,
Everywhere it spreads, wherever it can touch and see.
The burning heat is combined with sweating,
which then turns into family reunions,
Followed by swimming with my cousins.
And I can hear the sound of tiny footprints on lawns
Running through the neighbor's favorite sprinkler.
And sweet smell of marshmallows to eat,
My favorite one of them all, would have to be the Fall,
The sweet scent of fire lingering through the
Twilit cool breeze,
And there are yellow, orange and red leaves falling,
Like confetti from a pinata,
They have a certain destination in mind,
Mostly it's for my children collecting them with papa,
Or using them for their 3rd grade Science project.
Families all over the world get to do one thing,
At the same time...
Collect nature's beauty marks,
And jump so excitingly among,
-the beauty of a season..
Not too long after that, the Winter I saved for last.
Not because I don't appreciate this weathered season,
But because there's nothing better than that first time
You can see your breath when you breathe.
I'll never forget the first time I woke up as a child,
Gazed out our front porch window,
And experiencing awe for the very first time and saw,
Snow dipped pine trees with little green, and a lot of white.
There are icicles dangling reflecting a prism into
All surrounding light, and when they decide it's time to melt,
It's about that time of year when the sun stays up a little later,
And when the moon takes his time rising deep in the horizon.
And when the starts are just so much more..
Copyright © Laura Urbaniak