Winter Blossoms

S. Josephine Weaver

S. Josephine Weaver

The man
in the frosted field
stands waist deep under
the cowling of a crop`duster
a stubby yellow bi`plane
with pilot`seat near
the tail

remains the month
when the farmer puts on
his coveralls plays mechanic
to refurbish the machine
on which he depends
in July

is the season when
ice loses its poetic luster
Then the poet reads novels
in search of an alter`ego
in whose orchards
love blooms

About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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3 Responses to Winter Blossoms

  1. life’s intermission

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ebbtide says:

    especially enjoyed this one :)


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