The time written here has yet to arrive but I find my mind wandering to that age when this wonderful season of cold and snow is beyond my grasp.




Algonquin snow shoes 

Thongs dry frames 

In need of linseed oil


Skis dusty edges rusty

Bindings loose and tired

Boots beg for mink oil


Skate blades dull laces

Brittle leather dry

Hung on a rusted nail


The trails call out

In empty drifts

trek tracks uncut


The pond rink hidden

Under unshoveled snow

Quiet no laughing sounds


The hills stark white

Without the ribbons

Of  a skis  caress 


I sit this year




My soul in need

Of winter yet

My strength cannot

Poetry by josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 36 times
Written on 2021-02-16 at 01:00

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Thomas D The PoetBay support member heart!
Very crisp and fresh writing. Good ear, sharp eye. Think I'll bookmark!