Poems: Ice Storm

 

The breeze is brisk; it is not warm.
I cannot see clear through this storm.
I take a breath that I will hold,
And hope my story will be told.

 

I do not know where I might be,
But I hope I will be set free.
I grow colder with each breath,
And know that I must starve off death.

 

The ice, it comes, I cannot speak.
It chills my blood and makes me weak.
I may be lost, I may be scared,
Perhaps my judgment is impaired.

 

I see something … is it a light?
This feels wrong … but it may be right.
It’s still so cold, I turn within,
And find warmth inside my own skin.

 

It’s a lie, this I know,
I’m still trapped in ice and snow.
I’m cold and wet and full of sorrow.
But things will be better on the morrow.

Flash Fiction: Revenge of the Smallest

It's early December and we have so much snow it defies expectations. The weather is inspiring flash fiction in me, and the kids are out throwing snow at each other. Is it any wonder why I'm writing about a snowball fight?

Revenge of the Smallest

Liam cried out as he ducked behind the snow bank. This wasn’t fair. One against four, and all four older than him. How could any of them think this was a fair fight?

He heard footsteps crunching over fresh snow and knew they were surrounding him. This was no snowball fight. It was an ambush. He should have stayed in bed, but he’d been tempted by the idea of a good romp on a not-so-cold winter’s day. Bad choice.

Knowing he was out of time, Liam glancing around. He did not want to be showered in snowballs. Not again. It had been fun until they had ganged up on him. Now it was just ridiculous. He’d rather go inside and watch his mother baste a turkey. It was better than this.

Just as he was about to dash from his sanctuary, he caught sight of someone on the roof of the house. Uncle Leo. But what was he doing on the roof? Then he noticed the shovel Uncle Leo had. Why would anyone haul the large bucket-shovel up on the roof?

Uncle Leo started waving and pointing, obviously trying to tell him something. Liam tried to pay attention, tried to figure it out. After a moment, he grinned. With a wave back at his uncle, Liam turned onto his stomach and wiggled his way to the top of the snow bank.

As soon as his head cleared the top, his toque flew off as a snowball grazed his head. They were still hunting him. Perfect. They were looking at him, hoping he’d show himself, and hadn’t noticed Uncle Leo up on the roof. Good.

Turning onto his back, Liam waited. He waited until he heard his brothers start to climb up the snow bank. With a deep breath, Liam threw himself up and ran for all he was worth. He ran for the house, for the porch, grinning all the while.

Snowballs peppered his back, footsteps dogged him, but he kept running. He threw himself onto the porch and turned, landing with his back against the door. His brothers ran up the steps, snowballs in hand, only to disappear in a wash of white as Leo pushed the fluffy snow off the roof.

As his brothers grumbled and dug themselves out, Leo’s laughter boomed out over the snow. Liam giggled and smiled sweetly, happy with his revenge.

Poems: The Mystery of Snowflakes

 

Each and every snowflake,
Is unique unto itself.
Each one bears a message,
Of love or faith or help.

 

Each and every snowflake,
As they fall beneath our feet,
Brings up a fallen memory.
Some are painful, some are sweet.

 

Each and every snowflake,
Reminds us of the past.
Perhaps they hold the secret,
To questions we have asked.

 

Each and every snowflake,
Holds a story yet untold.
But this story stays a mystery,
In the deep and dark and cold.

Poems: A Frosty Walk

 

The sun shines down upon my face,
The wind drifts slowly by.
The frost is crisp beneath my feet,
And I feel like I could fly.

 

Winter can be long and dark,
And go on far too long.
The wind can come and steal your breath,
As you trudge along.

 

But today is nearly perfect,
Or as perfect as can be.
The frost, it clings and glitters,
And moves quite like the sea.

 

I’m in a winter wonderland,
As I take my morning walk.
And yet I know I must go back,
I know this, and still I balk.

 

I hear my name, know it is time,
And am glad of any warning.
I kick up snow, disturb the frost,
And enjoy this frosty morning.