Normal Time

Winter exhaled fully from deep
in his belly. Shared almost the full breadth
of havoc he knew with
freezing temperatures, blinding snow
and ice slicked roads—
then witness
all the people’s and earth’s actions in response.

I move through my days in slow motion
defrosting with cold’s departure.
Sloughing off my last stuffy nose morning
as Winter makes his quick exit,
for Spring to present herself through
more temperate, accommodating weather.

Out from under my blankets
where Winter had forced me,
awake without his icy tendrils
inside my head, slowing my thoughts,
pulling me out of normal time
as audience to all his regalements,
I thaw. I begin to move easier
think faster, behave more congruously
with warmer days that now greet me.

Through Spring, Summer and Fall,
I will continue more fluidly,
flashing only the occasional cold memory of Winter
until his eminent welcome return in December.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 1 of 2 for the 8th week.

Check out the #SHINEonline paper.li linked at the top of my far right sidebar.

I took some time off to get into some other things. It took getting hung up on a title, (something that never stops me), to pull me away to other projects. It was fun times away. Though now I’m back with a vengeance. I have some posts to make up for—4 for 2 weeks missed. I look forward to challenging myself.

It will also be a bit of a practice in case I decide to participate in a daily poem project next month.

Monday Morning Symphony

I woke early to a raindrop orchestra outside my window,
playing a mellifluous symphony in the key of nature.
First a gentle blush then swelling
in a forceful crescendo—for long minutes.
I listen and watch peacefully through the movements,
through my window, wrapped in my blanket
against the cold air that seeped in.
The volume decreases diminuendo
leveling to loud cadence. Then decreasing more
it returns to the gentle melody.
Almost as if each drop strokes its contact points,
like drum brushes delivering gentler impacts.

Beyond the parking lot, trees have unwittingly
joined the musical. Bare branches high up
sway under the falling drops, following the water’s lead
marking time to me, their audience.
Heavier rainfall forces more frenzied movement.
The shorter, dense leafy evergreens, more hesitant to perform
are compelled to movement by rhythmic drops.
They sway and flourish almost imperceptibly
yet keeping time with the rain-cum-conductor.

People making way to cars, do their parts
respecting the raindrop symphony by walking hurriedly,
hunched under jacket or umbrella,
guarding against the continuous downpour.
Here’s a jacketed fellow with not even a hat.
His goal: get to port cover before the next deluge,
missing as many drops as he can manage.
Now drivers, in cars they add their voices,
tire splashes, to the rainy morning masterpiece.
All for me, their captive audience.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 1 of 2 for the 3rd week.

This poem is offered in submission too for the We Write Poems Prompt #38

This is a draft that has seen a few revisions since I wrote it on Monday. It will likely go through a few more before I’m ready to call time. But I wanted to post it because I like it now—and I’m working on another piece for this site, as well as writing for my other blogs.

I’m writing regularly but posting is off somewhat. So I’m working to get back on track quickly before the end of February. Needless to say, I’ll be working with my editorial calendars, to keep myself on track. More to come on that front too.

Prodded to Wake

Early winter morning
before the sun comes up,
the cold presses through
the panes of my
closed window,
presses through the bone
of my flesh and skin
covered skull,
pressing icy extensions
in through my brain
to my sinuses.

It can’t survive
just standing in the warmed air
in the room around me
or under my blankets with me.

I’m drawn out
from my cozy dreams
to chilled observance of
this path the cold does take
into me
by way of
my head, the window.

I’m awake.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 1 of 2 for this week.

Autumn’s Children

From germinating
seeds of Winter
come
Fall blossoms,
each a bulb
of possibilities
unnamed
unnumbered.
Of one ilk,
each given to
any of a myriad
of bents
or proclivities.

A mass of cells
nerves and synapses.
Partially defined,
further shaped
by life
by family
by choices.

Autumn’s children
face Winter
first thing.
Hard choices early
create practiced balance
genuine ease
in difficult times;
a free Spirit that
can as easily soar
in atmospheric
happy times
as they come
while they last.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

Lovely Days

What lovely shape the clouds
decorating the clear blue
of early autumn mornings.
Bees buzzing busily
in their leaving summer rituals.
They seem to float
in rhythm with
breathtaking birdsong.

So amazing are these
temperate brilliant days
that transition us
from one season to another.

What is ours
without war
without payment
without permission
is what nourishes my soul
from inside
or when outside
is not so bright and fair.

My spirit holds
days like these
for when I should need them.

Our Perfect World

Perfection is nature
bereft of nothing.

Animals plants insects
break die live kill grow
sprout new life
thrive without deliberateness
of choosing
eventually dying out
making room for new ones.
No more is the woolly mammoth.
Today we have
it’s current Asian relative
the elephant.

In the midst of the majesty
that breathes all around
is man
clumsy, crafty,
seemingly the only creature
not instinctively aware
of the course
uniquely his to follow.
He searches.

In a relative frenzy
of awkward ignorant insistence
he makes his way
disrupting the natural
flow of life,
by choices he trusts are best.
Still, some move just slow enough
to see and appreciate
the magic inherent in
the existence of everything,
before it’s time to leave
that others may come.

And the circles continue
expand and constrict.
And even
things judged flaws
are seen and
understood to have
their unique places of worth.

For, perfection is
nature bereft of nothing.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #21, perfectly flawed Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.