Snowfall | #poetry #poetrycommunity

There’s a calmness in the winter

the stillness and the silence

bundling up under several layers

just to go watch the dog run around outside

and come back inside to a piping hot cup of hot chocolate

hands like icicles, wrapped around the mug, warming.

December can feel like a separate world from reality,

everyone bustling to get ready for the holidays

while maneuvering around the first real snowstorm of the season

and I sit here drinking my hot chocolate

and the world stops for a minute

and I know,

if only for a moment,

that everything

will be okay.

..

-Ren Marie-

Hope (winter)

The brisk wintry air filled her with hope, something she hadn’t felt in a while. The trail was long, but she felt a warm comfort from her companion sharing stories. She didn’t say much, just listened and watched the trail in front of them. The greens and browns calmed her completely, and the smell of trees and the trickling of the stream nearby soothed her aching soul. She needed this hike. She felt her worries drift away as they climbed the mountain trail. Before long they reached the top. A cool wind blew through them as they admired the scenery. Treetops still shimmering from the rainfall overnight, the curved dirt path they followed now looking back at them. They made it to the top and what was that? Was that snowfall? She didn’t realize how cold it was, but now it’s snowing. She chuckled softly. The snow fell around them, soon covering the treetops and the rocks and path. They couldn’t move, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. Tomorrow they had to pack up and go back to the real world, but for now, they remained in the most beautiful place they could ever imagine.

“Let’s stay here forever.” She said.

“Okay.” He said.

Relief

The warm evening summer sun

interrupted by gentle breezes,

flowing through the trees

and through your hair.

The breeze is a relief,

the sun, though setting, burns bright.

When the wind blows,

it takes with it any sense of doubt

and any negative feelings we once had.

 

We stand in the forest,

surrounded by trees and bushes,

a plethora of greens and browns and yellows.

We’re barefoot, but only for a moment,

just to sink our feet deep into the soil,

root ourselves in the same dirt these trees use,

and maybe understand how they can stand so tall

in a world that doesn’t seem to want them.

 

I feel connected to the forest,

in the summer at dusk.

I feel as though I, too, will soon become cold and restless,

mischievous creatures will stir within me.

But there’s a beauty in the silent forest nights,

though most fear to approach the darkened woods,

those who do will find it’s calm and eternal;

it’s not out to get you, it just wants to survive.

It just wants to grow, to thrive

and as far as I’m concerned,

that’s all anyone else wants.

invincible

There’s something beautiful about a big open field; I used to dream about them. The endless green grass, wild flowers growing arbitrarily, wandering around them aimlessly. It’s a kind of calm bliss only achievable in a big open field, unaccompanied on a sunlit day. Maybe it’s something to do with how I spent my childhood, often around fields of lush grass and the soft sound of people just out of sight. Maybe that’s why I have such an affinity for them, they bring back fond memories from a time I only vaguely remember.

A gentle breeze passes, I feel sempiternal, unbreakable, invincible. Laying in the grass, I listen to the birds sing, the faint sounds of cars and people, just far enough away to not be bothersome, but still close enough so I don’t feel alone. I’m at peace, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.