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WINTER STORES
Charlotte Bronte
We take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.
And, haply, Death unstrings his bow,
And Sorrow stands apart,
And, for a little while, we know
The sunshine of the heart.
Existence seems a summer eve,
Warm, soft, and full of peace,
Our free, unfettered feelings give
The soul its full release.
A moment, then, it takes the power
To call up thoughts that throw
Around that charmed and hallowed hour,
This life’s divinest glow.
But Time, though viewlessly it flies,
And slowly, will not stay;
Alike, through clear and clouded skies,
It cleaves its silent way.
Alike the bitter cup of grief,
Alike the draught of bliss,
Its progress leaves but moment brief
For baffled lips to kiss
The sparkling draught is dried away,
The hour of rest is gone,
And urgent voices, round us, say,
“'Ho, lingerer, hasten on!”
And has the soul, then, only gained,
From this brief time of ease,
A moment’s rest, when overstrained,
One hurried glimpse of peace?
No; while the sun shone kindly o’er us,
And flowers bloomed round our feet,—
While many a bud of joy before us
Unclosed its petals sweet,—
An unseen work within was plying;
Like honey-seeking bee,
From flower to flower, unwearied, flying,
Laboured one faculty,—
Thoughtful for Winter’s future sorrow,
Its gloom and scarcity;
Prescient to-day, of want to-morrow,
Toiled quiet Memory.
’Tis she that from each transient pleasure
Extracts a lasting good;
’Tis she that finds, in summer, treasure
To serve for winter’s food.
And when Youth’s summer day is vanished,
And Age brings Winter’s stress,
Her stores, with hoarded sweets replenished,
Life’s evening hours will bless.
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CALIFORNIA DREAMIN'
[The Mamas and The Papas]
All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk on a winter's day
I'd be safe and warm if I was in LA
California dreamin' on such a winter's day
Stepped into a church I passed along the way
Well, I got down on my knees and I pretended to pray
You know the preacher likes the cold he knows I'm gonna stay
California dreamin' on such a winter's day
All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk on a winter's day
If I didn't tell her I could leave today
California dreamin' on such a winter's day
UNTITLED POEM
[Todd-Earl Rhodes]
utter aloneness
snowflake on gnome's nose
RUEFUL REQUEST
We seek future thoughts
To restore furthermost forests
Full of sumptuous trees,
Shelter of fresh blossoms, of boughs,
Of lustrous shrubs, of bushes, too.
RESTLESS TRUTH
Forever homeless, we stutter, suffer
For we dream of a lustful summer.
EXIT
Farewell
To the shortest hot fevered spell.
REACHING FOR WHITE
[Lisa Shields]
The sun rose on fields
snow blown and misted
ghostly swirls and dervishes.
No fog this–––
for fog simply lies.
No–––this was living
as it arched and twisted,
fingering out to the road
and reaching for me
like the shade of a beloved friend.
There was white inside,
trying to seep out of pores,
I felt it strain
trying to mesh and meld
with this sentient wraith
fingers touching
joining
and suddenly
I am the morning mist
dancing in the crystal air.
BLUE TORTURE
The bitter tableau
Of slush, of woe.
EXTREME NUMBNESS
Warmth we'll depart
Like an icicle through the heart.
LOSS
We're the blest.
Trustful fools, we sought to rest.
LAST BREATH
The soulful remorse we evoke settles.
We pursue sleep. Go greet, meet death.
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