C W Hawes (c_w_hawes@yahoo.com) is a bureaucrat by day and a poet by night. His published work has appeared in a variety of print and electronic publications. He lives in the midwestern United States with his wife and daughter.
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9 thoughts on “”
snow where!!!
‘longside my house
the pink bougainvillaea blossoms
Magyar, this is the time of year i long for. the humidity bearable, night temperatures in the 60’s; a real treat the 50’s. our days in the 70’s.
how are things, everything is passionately abloom; bleeding reds, luscious orange, royal blues. not to be left out, that oversized miami moon.
warm trade winds, but no hurricanes.
Magyar, your “same blue jay” was familiar. visited daily by the same jay, it began landing on my outreached hand. for several nesting seasons, it’s fledglings joined her. sad, the caring she found in me wasn’t to be in others. disappearing for several weeks, she reappeared; shattered beak and a string attached to one leg…
and yet, into my outstretched hand she flew; until the end.
snow where!!!
‘longside my house
the pink bougainvillaea blossoms
morning snow
veiled union of sea and sky
horizon snowhere
_Bob, how are things in Fla.?
Lovely.crisp image Chris.
Crabapple jelly coming up? It’s my favourite.
Here, water restrictions, jacarandah in bloom.
on the hot asphalt
a pool of blue
jacarandah
lorin
A sharp visual, Chris.
Magyar, this is the time of year i long for. the humidity bearable, night temperatures in the 60’s; a real treat the 50’s. our days in the 70’s.
how are things, everything is passionately abloom; bleeding reds, luscious orange, royal blues. not to be left out, that oversized miami moon.
warm trade winds, but no hurricanes.
–
open window-
from the darkness
doves coo
_CW… because of your good image, -first snow- and
_Bob, the climatic fantasy (mine) of your
-open window-. I realize why I ‘winter-wait.’
greening foothills
as when life was new
the same blue-jays
_M
Love this moment, Chris!
The vision of little white-capped crabapples
is so appealing…
:-)
Lary
Magyar, your “same blue jay” was familiar. visited daily by the same jay, it began landing on my outreached hand. for several nesting seasons, it’s fledglings joined her. sad, the caring she found in me wasn’t to be in others. disappearing for several weeks, she reappeared; shattered beak and a string attached to one leg…
and yet, into my outstretched hand she flew; until the end.
–
So cold, crispy and clear. Nice!