Florida By: Raveena Duggal I want a change of scenery, I want to be able to clear my mind, I want to feel unlimited happiness, I want to travel, I want to travel south, Where warm air shifts through the trees, Where birds are chirping, Where the sky shines a bright blue, I want to
Anchors These January days are longer, sun higher, snow melts off the slope so drip, drip, drip down the spikes before cold nights turn them rigid and they fringe the roof – fingers pointing at inefficient heating, ventilation, ice dams, loosened shingles. But this afternoon they wax poetic – prisms of light along the eaves,
Miscarriage February 9th again, and once again I lose the baby, a fog of nose and arms and legs— a world not sea-blue, but blood-red, full of volcanic beginning. Ending in February: bark-littered snow, limb-battered oaks. A split-stripped weeping willow creaks. Once it seemed I could hold what was needed to swaddle nothing into something—something
Seasonal speed bump— large clump of rock salt in the road January— skyscraper tops shrouded in snow January, yet no one on the sledding hill January— one man, one dog on the beach January— wind-driven whitecaps on the still-unfrozen lake
you are cold and hard and I know what that means: many winters of children and fenceposts and frostbitten tongues have taught me lessons about the flavours of frost designs and regret but still I know I do not learn and I will kiss you and taste you and find myself stuck until the spring
midnight in winter Ice on the window: skin of the world we do not want, the word the lips refuse to spill. The enemy. The fragile, dermal glass is there, impotent shout against the winter. Voice cries out, silent, inside: whisper, mutter, shiver, curse. A distant train from someplace warm howls. It carries memories of
It needs strength to break the ice when it’s frozen as solidly as silence. Or so I thought. It needs strength to break the ice, to break the mould and reform. Or so I thought. But just suppose, the ice gives up it’s power and allows the colour to break through, bright so the delicate
Snowshoeing—March For M and K Frozen branches of barren birch cast blue-grey shadows on the Long Trail, blanketed white. Trees encased in ice and snow, shimmer against cobalt. Cheeks red, ruddy. Our noses, eyes, sting and drip; tiny hairs now miniature icicles. Still, our bodies warm as we climb. We peel layers, swiftly stuff them
Winter By: Raveena Duggal Winter, one of the most beautiful seasons, Snow covers the trees, Snow covers the grass, Snow covers everything in sight, Snow falls lightly from the sky, Kids are sticking out their tongues, Waiting for snowflakes to tickle their tongues, Then, the snowflakes melt into tiny dewdrops, As the snowfall continues, Snow
The snow is falling down Every flake is on the ground The snow doesn’t make a sound Even when I roll around Snow is twinkling on my hand The snow lays across the land Drinking cocoa fresh and hot This much fun can not be bought Looking at the frozen lake Frosty air keeps me