Winter Poems

Why do we only speak of nature

When trees bloom

Not when buds point the sky?

I admire the white color

Patterns painted

Of branches and leaves frozen

A fossil of recent past.

Why is winter seen as death

And spring as life

When leaves are given to soil?

I feel the vibrant spirit

Mushrooms spotted

Small treasures in sparkly powder

Found beauty in colorless light.


Fingers extended

Splattered in its space


Branches hang proud

Skeletons or veins?

Raw emotion felt

My heart flutters



Your eyes  hang loosely

Caught in positive and

Negative space

Notice leaves frozen in ice

Water droplets on branches

It’s the small observations

That feed a curious mind


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