Winter Poem

by Maressa Mortimer

Wintertime calls for snow.

Why else would you watch the snowbells grow?

The rain seems here to stay but is that sleet?

Much more appropriate than the water gushing down our street snow cold dripping on the floor.

Where is the council when you need them most, Aren’t they to run their village like a gracious host?

Never mind, this isn’t a poem, I sigh.

Muddy puddles shine on my old, inherited tiles.

How many winters have they felt, gone through, accepted?

Did they remember the mop, the cleaning spray, the elbow grease of ages long gone?

The rain has stopped; a gorgeous rainbow shines on black clouds

I stare at the black soil, clay-like

Are those soft green tips?

Budding leaves?

Sprouting?

Now?

Plants?

I want wintertime to be like winter, cold

I tut as I iron my shirts, sleeves and all, then fold.

Winter should mean skating, scarves hats and gloves,

Snowball fights, sledging, hot chocolate with our loves.

Never mind, it is winter, snow or no.

And this really isn’t a poem, just me having a go.

Maressa Mortimer is Dutch but lives in the beautiful Cotswolds, England, with her husband and four (adopted) children. Maressa is a homeschool mum as well as a pastor’s wife, so her writing has to be done in the evening when peace and quiet descend on the house once more. She loves writing Christian fiction, as it’s a great way to explore faith in daily life. All of Maressa’s books are available from her website, www.vicarioushome.com, Amazon or local bookshops.