When that cold winter comes
and the chilly wind does blow
best stay indoors
as it's freezing down below
but enquiring minds need to know
who ploughs the roads
so the snowplough man can drive to work
and plough the snow?
autumn folds its leaves
a flora of crooked hearts -
sympathy and tea
With blurred vision in my one eye,
on this cold winter afternoon
I trace the course of a blue-black fly
in my small kitchen. Pretty soon
my boredom gets the best of me.
Once I eat a macaroon
I rise to make some jasmine tea
and wonder why I allow this bug
(who does not share my philosophy)
to sit there resting on my mug.
I do not know what's in his head,
but think he must be awfully smug,
so I get up and leave. Instead
of drinking tea I go to bed.
"Cosmic Kiss"
---------------------------------------------------------------
"Moments of personal growth marked my happiness
i stand in love with the idea of being with her
she made things so difficult.
One night we watched Venus and Jupiter align in the
spring sky. I fell asleep on her shoulder
and she hugged me alnight
I was so happy I had made person staus and
and it was enough for me."
---------------------------------------------------------------
This morning feels bit chilly
It’s about time to go
It doesn’t seem too silly
I’m used to wind and snow
I shuffle down the high street
I’m crossing the old square
It’s slippery, I watch my feet
Don’t want to stumble there
The tiles are laid unevenly
It might be too abrupt
If I fall down, conceivably
Won’t bother to get up
Autumn Sway
golden leaves in flight
chilly breeze whirls through the trees
sunshine fades away
rancid scent hangs in the air
autumn firmly holds its sway.
There is an old goat named Billy
who finds the altitude chilly
and with insufficient grippage
to prevent downhill slippage
may fall off the mountain but will he?
• Blazing hot ice
• Chilly open flames
• Animals wearing clothes
• Humans with no names
• Empty houses with legs
• Rats hatching from eggs
• Marbles from the water faucet
• Shucking pods and getting pegs in
Trees have gotten' bare
Frosty chill, ingest warm air
Winter’s grasp is near
Night in the Southern
Part of Chile can sometimes
Be very chilly.
In a brief retrospective
with melancholy eyes
September with
the dominant color,
under the leaf falling moon
Never forget the smell
of spring and flowering
a freshness of love
The sleeping earth of winter
waking up under the sun
warm kisses
- never too early
His rain-washed face
and cool breaths in autumn weather
Season of mists fades in the west
- brooding over death
It’s the sound of wind, breathless, softly playing
Rustling through leaves with songs in richest essence
Collecting dreams despite quiet senescence
Gentling, lasting impressions grown through praying.
While the nights grow bitter, the trees keep swaying
Reaching for the moon in her adolescence
Lush splash of song with tones of fluorescence
‘tis the season of grace is all I’m saying
Dazzling colors, bold tones of joy unfolding
Seeking life in the hearts of those who love her,
Autumn’s secrets, so graceful, we’re beholding
It’s the twinkling of an instant we’ll say burr,
Her rousing splendors she’ll not be withholding.
Autumn is the spice that I’ll ever prefer!
This summer, it was Jilly’s dream
to eat a sweet, chilly ice cream
A seagull it took
Jilly said, “Oh, look!”
For Jilly’s too sweet to blaspheme!
In the chilly hours of the graying gloaming,
silent shivers rise from the estuary.
Just before the waves churn in frothy foaming,
Goddess Moon approaches Her adversary.
Sun slinks away at Her approaching homing,
slowly shedding His cloak as Luminary.
She reigns all through the darkened and leaden night
until stubborn Sun returns, anew and bright.
Wet foggy morning,
a shy daylight wakes me up with the birds music.
The cats heard my voice, they call me to have their breakfast.
Before my coffee, I am their waitress.
I look at them while they eat, they look happy, so do I.
The sun starts to show
as the fog is fading away,
not a jumper needed,
but only short sleeves in a gifted sunny day by nearly winter.
Cows are milked and they go out to graze in the green meadows.
This is the country, where the time seems to stop,
where the stress is confused
and faded away with the early fog.
We feed the pigs, rabbits and chickens.
They look at us so grateful.
I go out for a walk among the chestnut trees watching the crows chasing the hawks, listening to every note the little birds sing.
Chilly nightime with a clear sky,
bright stars to contemplate,
a reverie for the eyes watched from the farm's warmth.
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