The Crystal Lady

The Poet's Corner

Poems about Seasons of the Year or Weather

Winter Whispers
by Joan Estelle High

The Winter wind sings, It blows it's frosty breath at the outside wall.
With wispy slender fingers, it creeps about the window pane.
Finding it's way in by seeping through crevices both large and small.
With determination in it's breath a strong hold it seeks to gain.

Perhaps the wind only wants to try and warm it's icy face.
As it  goes slipping  down the chimney flue to a darken room
 You can see it sifting though the warm embers of the fireplace.
 Softly puffing up the dying ashes while  they yet  dance a tune

The silence of the night is muted by the rug of velvet black.
The whippoorwill won't sing his sad melody any more today.
But with the morning dawning light, his song will soon be back.
Even the yard dogs are quiet in their beds, They don't even bay.

The homemade thick quilt has become a trusted friend.
Wrapping about me tightly in a soft cocoon of warm.
It will hold me  snug and tight until the night shall end
I feel secure against the wind and cold can do no harm.

It seems to know that my soul, at night is free to roam.
So it will hold my body safely until I return back home.

Spring Song
by Joan Estelle High
© January 2003

The seasons come and the seasons go.
Some things change but some things don't
I guess it is not for us the why to know.
Sometimes we change, sometimes we won't

So many of those we love have gone away.
Just faded from our lives like melting snow.
Leaving us but memories, they past our way.
Sharing the gift of life for a while, then they go.

Some days our own lives seem cold and gray.
Winter has impressed it self upon our souls.
We can but wish the snow would go away.
Before the Winter chills us to an early  grave

It's warmth and sunshine that  we need.
Sitting by the fire and drinking  a cup of tea
Watching the flickering fire begin to recede
As we then  re-live our treasured memories.

Then just like a little soldier of the springtime.
The Crocus grows above the cold hard bed.
Next a shy yellow daffodil peaks out timidly.
Soon you will see it's golden sunny little head.

They were waiting for a signal that I could not see.
Now they are busy springing up over all the yard.
Random scattered bunches in groups of two and three.
Even though the ground seems  so cold and hard.

While they sleep peacefully the snow has kept them warm.
A robin with a breast of red hops merrily across the drive.
Seems the snow that chilled my bones, didn't due them harm.
It sends a  signal deep within my soul, that I am still alive. .

Then the joy from within my soul sings a sweet melody.
I have made it to another year so sings the song in me.
God is in His heaven, Mister Sun is high in the sky.
Gone are the clouds of winter gray, above the sky is  blue.
I silently shout "Amen" , for the days are all brand new. 


By Joan Estelle High

There are many different types of rain.
First comes the gentle rain of Springtime.
That coaxes a sleepy daffodil to bloom again.
While it waters deep the parched dry pine.

Rain who's each life-giving drop contains.
A ray of hope of things that are brand new.
Like elixirs from long past lost gods of rain.
Not just a pitter-patter rain of living dew.

Then as the summer days grow warmer.
Storm clouds erupt against a sky of blue.
Sending soaking rains to water thirsty plants.
Wash their dirty faces , their spirits to renew.

Raining now with gusto, chariots race into view.
Swirling white clouds mixed by an artist brush.
Filling up the landscape and raining now on cue.
As splish-splash the rain now comes with a rush.

In the Fall, Mother Nature gives a season ball.
Invites all the trees to dress up bold and gay.
Then the rain comes down daily in the early fall
Making all our world both damp and gray.

Was it not for the bolder colors in the tree.
How more dreary this sunless rain would be.
The rain in the winter falls far and wide.
It sometimes drives us to stay warm inside.

Covers this earth in a coat of ermine white.
But it does fill our souls with much delight.
It drifts slowly down with a feathery grace.
And makes our  winter world a special place.

Song playing is "How nice it is today"

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