Winter wind whines through woods,
whips and tosses flakes around tree trunks
like refugees begging for shelter.
Where can they go except to fall
into the ground or sink
and drown in a foreign sea?
Tonight they cling to naked branches,
pine needles, and magnolia leaves
willing to lend a rill or crag, thankful.
But the wind scrapes roofs and shrubs,
whirls all in air for a final, tough luck – no room,
dizzying, mind-altering waltz.
Image credit: Abstract art (Pixabay)
Helga Kidder lives in the hills of Tennessee. She was awarded an MFA from Vermont College. Co-founder of the Chattanooga Writers Guild, she leads one of its poetry groups. Her poems have been published in Slipstream, Moebius, Poetry South and many others as well as in the anthology Carrying the Branch: Poets in Search of Peace. She has three poetry collections: Wild Plums, Luckier than the Stars, and Blackberry Winter.
Latest posts by Helga Kidder (see all)
- The Statue of Liberty by Helga Kidder - January 6, 2023
- Stars Shine on Everyone – Helga Kidder - December 15, 2019
- Dance of the Forgotten – by Helga Kidder - November 25, 2019