by Peter Notehelfer


She slips in

A Shiver through

time’s curious wrinkle

Arrives on the doorstep

like a long-lost relative

returned early late

for a holiday 

On her wrist

she wears a crocus

At her ankle primroses

yellow white light dance

Anxious willows pop

their furry buttons

at her glance

In the hills

pine boughs begin

to drip on hard needles

under which the uneaten

nuts hibernate against

cold winter never

quiet come

May I stay

a little while?

she whispers soft

Her breath perfumed

of sunshine & sage

I bring a gift

of grace!


5 Comments to “February”

  1. Beautiful. I love the imagery.

  2. Personification: exemplary with fine images, like the “whispering bit.

  3. You drew me in with the first three lines. What imagery! I do love poems of nature and this one is very special,

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