Tag Archives: winter

Pandemic winter

Posted on December 17, 2020 by Susan L Daniels

Finally the snow comes To cover over what’s raw The naked dirt of fresh graves Though we still live. The plumes of breath escaping masks prove it.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

today daylight

Posted on December 21, 2016 by Susan L Daniels

today daylight increments smaller than hope (that bitch knows we have ahead of us a season of ice short days blue shadows angled light but I’ll gladly add the seconds to an appreciable difference) time is like that a change … Continue reading →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

February

Posted on February 12, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Mid-February keeps it’s time, holding tight to snow and earth frozen to raw mud.  Before sap runs this month will ignore returning birds and snap and swallow budding back to whiteness, allowing no green except naked grass, uncovered where sun … Continue reading →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 40 Comments

small stone 01/06/2013

Posted on January 6, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

for Trent — we seem to keep bouncing ideas off each other. If only you could see what I have seen with your eyes, you said. Show me.  Show me what my words paint, because in daylight they fly the colors of … Continue reading →

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envisioning winter

Posted on January 5, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

I want to find that place where visions approach the way wild deer take apple slices from gloved hands if they are hungry, and I am still.  Do visions come in winter?  I cannot hold winter; blood too warm to … Continue reading →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 13 Comments

Dormancy (reworked into a double triolet with a couplet)

Posted on December 30, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

What waits to stir beneath snow is more than old leaves and mud; life folded, patient and slow (is) what waits to stir beneath snow shifts in its sleep, hungry to grow the dreams seeds own, impatient to bud what waits … Continue reading →

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the christmas tree farm

Posted on November 25, 2012 by Susan L Daniels

forests have voices but these farmed needled trees arranged in priced rows can only whisper wildness learned through roots touched to roots what it means to be pine a memory quietly hummed & almost scented beneath the bite of snow & resin … Continue reading →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , , | 24 Comments