white cockatoo screeches
racing clouds across the sky
the two palettes mix
shades of alabaster white
promptly hushed by winter’s breath
By Sarah © 2025
tanka 27.7
Tag: winter
Holding Pattern
Pressure builds behind eyes.
A dull throb echoes through both brain and breath.
The air tastes thick.
Each inhale scrapes the inside of my face.
Every exhale, is a slow retreat, sharpening the knives.
Light folds itself into something heavier.
I move carefully,
for my skull might splinter
with any sudden thought.
Sleep hovers, but never lands.
I am in a holding pattern.
Time drips by in spoonfuls
– of broth, medicine, and hope shaped like steam.
As they curl around my pain,
I yearn, for how it feels
to be clear again…
By Sarah © 2025
Author’s note: This little scribble is inspired by a recent (and terrible) sinus infection that took me down swiftly and kept me there for over two weeks.
Whiteout
awaiting spring’s bite
secrets buried out of sight
winter’s coat fits tight
By Sarah ©2023
Ronovan Writes, Haiku Challenge #454 – berries and winter.
Author’s Note: I have used the homophone “bury” instead of berry/berries.
Empyrean Dreaming
A muted lens delicately cloaks
this morrow’s wintertime sky.
Cold, pale hands of despair perilously cradle;
holding the air.
Amorphous waves of alabaster;
an empyrean dreaming.
By Sarah ©2023
Author’s Note: Written for Ronovan Writes, “Sijo Wednesday Poetry” with the challenge theme of “embrace,” and also Cee’s Midweek Madness Challenge, January pick a topic (fog/mist).
Lucent Waves
Mornings thick with flies.
Heat radiates lucent waves,
bouncing off the ground.
Top of 35 degrees (C) today!
I wish it was winter still…
By Sarah ©2017
Prompt: Ramblings Of A Writer, Weekly Tanka Prompt Challenge, Week 73 – mornings and winter, Daily Post Daily Prompt, degree
Frosted
Frosted
green blades
crunch under foot.
Bracing breaths; foggy skies.
Winter.
By Sarah ©2017
Image credit George Hiles
“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”
– John Steinbeck
Prompt: Sammi Cox, A Month Of Mini Writing Challenges – 3 September 2017. Task: Write a poem in less than 10 lines on the theme of winter.
Bella Burrito
It’s so cold here at the moment, even the dog has sought whatever warmth she can – making herself into a Bella Burrito using my dressing gown. Gotta love this gal 💜🐶
First Frost
My eyes popped open as the alarm screeched, hammering my brain. Noooooo! I thought.
I peeled back the covers and promptly pulled them back over myself again. It was FREEZING. I snuggled back in, pretending I hadn’t heard the clock. I tried to go back to sleep but guilt kept my mind from such joy.
“Are we getting up?” my husband asked, after a few minutes.
“I don’t want to,” I replied.
“Come on. It won’t be so bad,” he promised. “Count of three? 1…2…3…”
We threw off the covers and bravely jumped out of bed. I began hopping from foot to foot, as the cool tiles stuck to my soles. I frantically tugged off my pyjamas and put on my active wear, ready for our daily morning walk. I considered my usual cap and opted for a beanie instead.
We opened the front door and the icy chill hit. It was straight from the antarctic. Although the sky was still dark, the moon reflected on the sparkling, shimmering frost that coated the blades of our front lawn. There was no going back now. We crunched through the ice leaving green impressions of our shoes behind us.
As we hit the footpath, I was so grateful I had chosen the beanie. We breathed out and steamy clouds escaped our mouths. It was at least 0 oC or below and perfectly crisp.
“First frost for the year,” my husband observed.
“Mmmm, hmmmm.” I answered, unable to unclench my teeth long enough for a more eloquent response.
I shivered as we walked along in the foggy early morning. My fingers numb, my nose running and my limbs stiff from the shock of the cold. Our footfall echoed in the still air. Each step, an effort.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Twenty minutes later we arrived back at our house, green footprints still visible and guiding the way. As I opened the door, I felt enormous relief that it was over.
We made ourselves coffee and porridge for breakfast. The warmth from the coffee thawed my frozen digits as I cupped my mug. The oats seemed to radiate from my belly, heating my core. I began to feel human again.
As I looked over at my husband, content, I said, “The first frost is always the worst.
He grinned and replied, “Sure is. Same time tomorrow?”
By Sarah ©2017
Image courtesy of Pixabay
Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: observe, frantic, shimmer, foggy
By Sarah 