Winter Waiting


Small felt smaller still after

being buried alive, wrapped

Egyptian style in layers

bred of cold desperation.


Much energy was wasted

fuming, whining, recounting

tales of those whose days were filled

with blue skies and toes in sand,

Paradise lost; squirming drove

Small deeper into her grave,

tied icy anchors to hopes

that hell had frozen over.


Large watched in compassionate

silence. Grieving. Waiting for

Small’s heart to thaw. He sent his

love in diamonds, reflective

prisms in hues carved by age-

old mysteries into shards

of brilliance, setting each stone

with a jeweller’s practised eye,

glowing treasures at her throat.


He waits still. Small sags, sulky,

snow-blind. But patience lives where

love glitters; Large wipes her tears

with rainbows, crowns her mornings

with gentle soliloquies

cooed by mourning doves,

harnessing the Chinook winds

to end her hibernation.

Winter Harvest




Garden’s winter grave

Snowy soil on Sabbath rest

Patience being sown

Knowing and Believing


Dates and calendars herald Spring’s approach.

She knows it will come –

she believes in the Oracle

who promised Winter’s demise.

But knowing

and believing

leave her cold today,

in the shivering places

where soul must hang in the tense balance

between what is and what will be.

Reality is,

while her rescue is certain,

her ‘now’ is cold,

her present wrapped up in ice.

She must find a way

to keep her hope warm

until she can sing

Winter’s dirge…


Image courtesy of Leanne Cole Photography

They planted Tree the year she bore baby Jim;

Now when they see it, they think of him –

His quiet ways, his shy boyhood smile,

His fresh-scrubbed face when he walked down the aisle.

Tree has survived the worst of the past;

Lightning’s wild strikes, tornado’s fierce blasts.

Now Jim is gone, his sacrifice through;

Tree lost its soul when they got the news.

Twisted and gaunt, it stands on the hill

Waiting for Jim; it is waiting there still…

What the Claw Saw

Your clammy claw, a land-locked crab

Erectly snaps at Fate;

In drenched green slicker, cold and damp,

You think the sun is late!

We have had a spell of cold and blustery weather – and here in Saskatchewan, we aren’t used to that!  We get a lot of sunshine hours every year (to make up for the otherwise harsh conditions?) so when wet conditions tarry for long we quickly grow restive.  I don’t know how many thoughts run through this daylily’s ‘brain’, but I am certain it waits for the sun!