These trees greet Spring
skeletal and plural,
branches barred in a twill weave,
just green at the budding tips
as the roots release sap
that coalesces to sugar
feeding the season
or boiled down in kitchens
to its dark promise,
staining tea honeyed maple
For Whimsy-Mimsy
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Ooohhh I like this. 🙂 its PERFECTLY blended between the prompts and winter thoughts… and since you wrote it, of course it is. I wouldn’t expect less.
Aw, shucks, thank you! I had fun with it–thanks for the prompt. Yours was wonderfully warm and erotic. Sigh. I want to write like that when/if I grow up.
A very sweet way to break winter. Nice flow from tree to maple table. k.
Thanks, K.
Not sure what the prompt was, but I loved the poem. I keep watching, everyday, for the greening of spring, but I have not seen any signs of it yet on the trees. 😦
I saw them last week, before snow covered the branches again…sigh. the prompt words were twill, tea, coalesce, and plural.
Lovely— I wish it was spring already here (sighing with a glance at the new powder outside)
Same here.
Now I want french toast. ; )
Ooooh, I have not had breakfast yer. What a great idea.
Lovely response to the prompt Susan. The romance of the season.
Thank you, JCC.
syrup boiling season is on. Wonderful job with her prompt Susan.. perfect in fact
Audra, thanks! I had to do it. Those buckets are EVERYWHERE.
There is huge home made sign on our little town green pointing everyone to a local farm for the boiling. Your poem was timely for here too. Buckets and tubing abound
My parents boiled syrup one year. My mom made the mistake of boiling it in our kitchen, and not in a shack. Oops. The syrup was great, and she so enjoyed her new wallpaper.
Haaa that’s a great story 🙂
Maple syrup, of my favouritest tree.
Mine too!
The life that slows, pauses, and then flows again, from the cold refuge of wintering roots up up up into the mouths of us, sitting by the window looking out over a morning less cold than before, snow melting, buds forming. I love this feeling. That comforting moment on the verge of re-emerging into a reviving, greening world. Sipping tea. Caressing the hand of the beloved beside you. So warm. And smiling.
Oh, yes–now that’s an almost-Spring I can love.