The grass squeaks
beneath my feets
Cold steals well into
my bones
Chilly cows in
frosty fields
complain in
mooing moans
The sun is
shining watery bright
glistening drips from
my watery nose
In the shade
of the rock garden
lies a frosty
useless hose
The dogs’ little
paws
hardly leave
a mark
It’s beautiful but
not my favourite time
I have Summer
in my heart
© Kait King, 2016
Thunder claps slap me in my stomach and heart
the sound so loud I can feel it’s power to my core
the rain is disjointed, fragmented and like nails
brittle, metallic, piercing upon my tin roof
cold drapes her cape and darkness is too early
Winters’ chilly breathe clings to me and all else
with crispy grass and black icy roads
time hibernates,
in a torpor while waiting for
the kick-start of Spring
Iron grey afternoons, misty mornings and
chilly bedsheets
embrace every day with a choking chilliness
a resistant prisoner I will wait
as a hibernating bear or a frozen tundra
stillness and a rigor about me will be chipped away
with every day of Spring
as I am hurtled with a kick-start
back into a living thing
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