winter

a crystal forest

of sleeping trees

creaking

instruments of the wind

the sun's kiss

brings icicles

in the early morn

while

we sleep

with the earth

and

dream

turning to each other

for warmth

as the snow comes

and lady wind sings

her somber melody

we are prepared

hot chocolate

wine

a freezer full of harvest

we dance

by the firelight

hold each other tight

through the deep

frozen nights

there are some

who will say winter

is about death and hibernation

i say it is for love

for the nights are long

are they not?

cold wood floors

shock our bare feet

as we run

for the promised warmth

of our bed

wrapped up safe

in a feather comforter

flannel sheets

the heat of your skin

like a magnet

hold me close

never let go

i can hear the gales blow

feel the blanket of snow

cover our home

natures silensor

but i am safe

in your arms

stolen moments

while the world hibernates

we love

tender

fierce

heat our home

with love alone

a winter filled

with

la petit mort

rising to the heavens

while the world sleeps

hibernates

waits

spring

sun

water

my fingers deep in the fragrant earth

the sweat of

hard work

the seeds of natures currency

life grows

spring flows

quickly through time

a raging river

summer

fireflies

the sweet smell of fresh cut grass

unforgettable primal scent of tomatoes

eating cherry tomatoes warmed by the sun

until the juice runs down my shirt

heat so heavy with humidity it feels like a blanket

beach days

riding the waves

sand between my toes

sunburn

cool breeze laced with salt

hot dogs

fireworks

barefoot days

watch for bees

summer burns hot and fast

with the knowledge that it will not last

weed the garden

day after day

hard work

will always pay

the gods bring

thunder storms

to wash away the sweat

clean and ready

for bed

autumn

the hard work of harvest

complete

we dance

eat

add that layer of fat for warmth

and a little something extra

to hold on to

at night

drink

be merry

have fun

campfires

crisp air kissing my cheeks

the taste of an apple

explodes on my tongue

leaves falling

wind blowing

plants dying

bursts of air from my lungs

floating in the breeze

on a cold morning

letting the chickens out

to pick the garden clean

happy little raptors unaware

winter comes

time to sleep

dream

love

for winter is cold and long

*Authors note: Vivaldi is my absolute favorite composer, hands down. I found a soul deep love for the violin when I read "A Girl of the Limberlost" as a tween. Some dusty, old forgotten book I unearthed at my Grandmother's house on a lazy summer day. While I can write stories in the traditional form (I promise), I'm going through a poetry phase and classical music always brings forth memories in flashes for me. Some good, some bad but always in vivid color and scent. This is what I wrote with the music cranked up and my mind open. Thank you for the challenge, I've never put into words the visions his art brings forth.

since I have posted a challenge. Well, here we are! In between practice sessions and other boring things, I've been listening to classical music. (Again.) I have only listened to The Seasons twice, but I feel like that's all you really need, with how often advertizements use them. BTW, if you ever need reccomendations, you just gotta ask :)

Now, to fill the word limit that I stupidly set for myself, I am going to write pointless things like this. I don't know why you are still reading lmfao, there are so many better ways to do this, and I just don't care.

Take care,

Winter.

I hear the first notes tip-toe onto parchment sheet. There is a subtle wind that begins to blow straight falling snow sideways. In the West, a large front moves in with vigor. This is the blade masqueraded under a coat, a long labored plot has taken place behind our backs. Then the strings stab wind and fury into the landscape. Rigorous violin blizzards come to bury the gentle foot falls. The hallelujah sunrise has left my view. For a time I'm struggling through my speech. Majestic chords rise and rise. Snow buries streets, insurance agencies, government buildings. Everything in sight carries a bit of burden. Roofs collapse and no one is to blame. Cars spin into each other; it's nothing personal. Some semblance of order is dissolved into a white, gaping void. The unstopping push and push of the violins to see this truth. Looking upon the world I have to surrender my desires of material. The snow buries the plow, and rake. Here I come to terms with my body that needs rest. Quietly and gently, a solo violin rocks us in cradle. Slowly back into a warmed home. Rabbits sleep together under the ground like ideas. The great oaks are naked, and resting. The snow melts a little, and comes back in droves. One week it's freezing, below zero and the next we're thinking of Spring. Old man winter retreats for one final bulge. With renewed vitality the violins sound even more determined to conquer. They strum with malice to my ears. However, now we are aware of triumph. The offensive is not what it once was. Ice and snow blow heavily. Winds begin to retreat to the highest heavens. The Sun breaks upon the clouds like a bow, and I see grace. The volume levels out. A pitiless Old god steps back once again to our unconscious. The strings are serious sounding now, growing slower in their arguments. The heart has gone out of it, and we put our winter boots back in the closet. A last breath can be heard, with a final word sounding. For now, we are through it all.

Summer is oppressive with its quite impressive heat.

Autumn winds wind down when all is falling.

Winter holds more vibrancy, for secrets just abound.

I’m more attuned to its incertain ways.

To outfox the windchill, I will bundle to the max.

To counter too low temps, I layer wild.

I take the challenge on to repudiate this bid.

Though it would daunt, I smartly kick its ass.

I have a hush-hush method that I shalln’t share here.

I feel it’s patent pending, it's so good.

While I came in a lion on the first day of March,

my lover came, a lamb, just at its end.

So I, a Winter baby, have my fresh Springtime boy.

And I have just unfurled the seasons four.