People have written about nature and the seasons for as long as they have put pen to paper (or chisel to stone?). And yet, we never run out of things to say, or new ways to say it. I too write a lot about the great outdoors. About falling snow, blooming flowers, heat waves, and yellowing leaves. I'm not sure I could live somewhere without it those seasonal markers
Perhaps my love of nature and seasonal poetry is why I pursued the idea of poets on ice. Freezing poems in blocks of pure winter goodness, until the spring melt, when they will return from whence they came is a very poetic thing to do.
When I looked back on my collection of poetry, I found dozens about snow and ice. I thought I’d share a smattering with you and I hope you consider sharing yours with me for this fun community project!
My ski tracks
A series of dashes and dots,
abstract art across the field.
A morse code message
of thanks to mother nature.
Guests of honour
We are on royal tour
through the trees.
Saplings, pine and yew bow to us
as we walk by.
Really, they are the season's
beasts of burden,
struggling under winter's weight,
But I like to think of it my way instead.
The ice
cracking and splitting
across the lake
echoing
during its annual transition.
moaning and heaving
it’s weight around
adjusting
to this new way of being,
to this sharper,
more solid form
of itself.
Still trembling droplets underneath.
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