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Poem

The most baby blue, two-storied house; baby blue chimney;
and milk-chocolate-brown rooftop. A whimsical triangle pine,
in front and ‘longside the home, seems to be atop a hill,
newly covered in pearl-gray white snow.

Spheres of snow, descending and ascending - spirited
prayers on Jacob’s ladder. Chimney, roof, house, and
fence posts dotted with drips of snow. Likewise, snow
shudders underneath the shutters eyelids.

Posts, of beige, baby pink, milk chocolate and tawny,
wrapped in holly berries and leaves; Coal-black iron gate,
more open than closed with crafted hearts.

Home surrounded by holly berry arch - perhaps a red cardinal
will alight and give a delightful nibble on a berry or two.

The pine and shutters, piquant. Ponders the apple of the eye,
stitched to the variance of woven threads, surely by foible,
needle and fragile fingers, not reaching for perfection,
but perfectly piques the curiosity for a poet’s meditation.

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