Like liquid glass,
Water gives itself
Rising slowly
In waves of steaming mist
Into the dead calm
Of an icy pink dawn


Driftwood
Bearded in hoary frost
Frozen to sparkling sand
Ripe for fireplace picking
Waits


Geese fly
Honking talk
Voiceless ducks
Counterpoint with whirring wings


Air so cold
It makes your teeth ache
I hold the coffee cup up
And watch its mist meld with
The steaming water


Hunching into my coat
Watching gulls soar
On unseen updrafts
I marvel at the life before me
In the season of the dead


As I go to gather firewood.













By Pete Bolte (pbolte@msn.com)

Watch these pages for more poems by Pete.

 

 









More poems and stories. Follow the list of links.




Check these out:

December Thoughts

Meltdown

Winter Fun

Sweet Dreams

December's Shoreline

Bopper's Christmas

Winter Concerto

The Green Velvet Gown

Winter Warm


And.......for many others, click the index image.



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The midi is "By The Sea".