cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

Writing 101 – Summer Decamped Today

I first heard the scraping
Iron chairs against concrete
Patio furniture moving toward winter
Protected in storage from frigid blasts.

Then down came umbrellas
Graceful tents over tables
Shields from bright sun rays
Where families shared picnics.

Our pool-side table
Under the oak tree
Summer scene of our word games
Was not spared from the march.

All put away in a few hours time.
Apartment management had given notice
Today was the sad day
That the pool would be closed.

They removed the ladders
For entering and exiting
Floated on the water
Three large inner tubes.

Not for the children’s play
These tubes bob all winter
Under the surface of tarp
Spread over water.

Tomorrow morning I’ll look from my window
Remember the joy the swimming pool brought.
Although the tarp is a beautiful blue
It’s a pale imitation of the real thing.

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Writing 201: Poetry – Ballad -Wintry Duel

Below zero. The morn’s frigid, ice everywhere.
Jack Frost has been at it – his art our despair.
Lacy ice tracings bring us to our knees
Engines struggle to turn over when it’s -15 degrees
Below zero.

High noon. Bright sunshine warmth becomes recompense.
Strong brilliant rays deliver defense.
Icy powers of Jack Frost let go, soon melt away.
No matter how sparkly his art holds no sway at
High noon.

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