The Late Winter Winds

The bluster and power of the late winter winds told him a different story now, unlike his younger days when meeting the winds head on, spoke of courage and the ability, to press forward meeting the challenge.

Now it just meant the brutal force of cold air, chilling his bones, so he zipped up his coat a little further, and held onto his hat, as another gust tried to knock him sideways.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Dawn of Crisp Mornings

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The refreshing kiss of cooler air,

the dawn of crisp mornings

waiting for the sun,

beginning the season of surrender 

where leaves let go of their green,

to receive the infusion

of a greater glory.

It won’t be long now.

      

Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies

Writing with the Winter Wind

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I haven’t decided yet if I’m still a river, but in the winter I do seek to write, filled with the winter wind,

with a touch of sparkle glinting off the snow. I reach in, and out at the same time with at least a partial measure of spirit, or try to.

I find writing from the spirit to be more honest, shaping words from what we cannot see. Connecting.

I love writing, so thank you for reading my posts!

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies