cronechronicler

You don't know where you are going. You don't know how to get there. And you arrive just the same. Ghanaian saying

Haiku: Vintager’s Lament

How I long for Spring.
After days confined by ice
Want my jail door sprung.

Walking safe and free
I’ll smell every flower bud.
Ample time for that.

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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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