NaBloPoMo:Winter weaver


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Winter weaves
Dreams of
Summer’s lush
Leaves;
Autumn’s sanguine
Song,
Breathing meanly
Cooling
The land.

Winter weaves
Willows’ writhe;
Hazels’ howl;
Vixens’ prowl;
Squirrels squeal;
Hawks scream.
Deer dream.

Winter weaves
A breaching
River race:
Herons’ watch,
Gracefully.

Winter weaves
Barren branches
Reaching;
Cerulean skies
Fleeting.
Dreaming.
Weaving.

National blog post a day month

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Nature’s picnic


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Ladies lace
Languishly spinning,
Dainty cotton patterns,
Crafted by
Nimble, fragile fingers.
They’re stitching a story
About chivalrous
Gentlemen
Wearing woven cloaks;
An eager entourage,
Pursuing the path
To rescue
Swooning sisters
From sun-drenched fields.
Gaily gathered, relaxing,
Picnic baskets laden,
Blankets strewn with
Well worn,
Beautifully bound,
Copies of
Austen and Bronte,
Finely fluted finger
Pastries
And Wild, ripe
Strawberries.
As Midsummer eve
Draws in
The picnic party,
Pepper their petticotes,
And comb their hair.
Entangled with
Charming gentlemen,
They leave the
Ladies lace
To nature’s picnic,
Bunnies, blue-tits
And accumulating
butterflies.

Magical evening


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As evening weaves
Her magic,
Soft, rippling
Waves,
Lulls signets and chicks
Into a web of
Nurturing dreams.

As serenity captures
The sun’s cooling rays,
Evening sighs
And closes
Her eyes.