The Fog of Summer

The damp days of summer,

The green and the gray,

The wet grass on bare feet,

fog rolling across the lawn in gossamer curtains.

I feel a chill in the air,

The harbinger of change—a hint

of Autumn in late July.

There are more summer days ahead,

filled with sunshine, sand, and warmth.

There are waves to ride and sandcastles to build, but

always the winter chill

barks like a dog on a chain

tied up at the back of the barn

where I try to forget him,

and hope I will silence him with starvation.

But he will bide his time and grow strong again.

One day he will break his chain

and glide over the north county in his loping stride

bringing ice on his breath

and snow in his fur

to banish the summer sun

and the autumn plenty.

He carries hunger in his belly

and gobbles up hope.

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 20, 2015)

A Battle with the North Wind

You roaring wind,

You arctic sledgehammer

pounding out of the north,

I turn my face to you

and beat my wings to fly

You push me back,

You seek to overpower me,

and still my chest expands,

My sinews elastic and powerful as my lungs

fill with your icy breath.

You push me back, and back, and back,

I feel my pinions fill and spread

with the power of your wind,

as we do battle.

You pour a winter’s weariness upon us,

refusing to release your grip,

while I fly on with a fierce hope

into Spring.

Kathie Adams Brown (March 22, 2015)

For World Poetry Day 2015 (One day late!)

Gray Day

Looking out the window panes

On a gray landscape;

Gray squirrels playing on gray tree trunks,

Gray sky waiting

Steel clouds billow and flatten

Dove skies bleed

Drops of liquid silver

Dull earth waits for water it cannot absorb

Gray birds sing in wet trees

Late winter rain turns gently to snow

And paints the world in white despair again.

Kathie Adams Brown (March 14, 2015)

Why are You Singing

Tufted Titmouse

Why are you singing, Mr. Titmouse?

Do you not know a blizzard is on the way?

I hear notes of romance

In your song this morning.

Are you declaring your territory,

Or enticing a mate?

It’ll be awhile yet before the nesting is begun,

But just to hear your song gives me hope

—that all is not lost

—that winter is not endless

—that crocuses will bloom again, and

—that somewhere under all that snow, there is, indeed, grass.

~Kathie Adams Brown (February 14, 2015)

Winter Woods

Winter woods are gray and silent,

Soft, and deep, and frosty,

In pine and spruce scented air,

Ice crystals cling like jeweled lichen,

Birch trees shining silver against the other pewter trees,

Branches all askew,

Reaching for the sky,

With green draped hemlocks

Dancing in the glen,

The whistling winds sings

Winter’s here again.

The tiny trumpet call of nuthatches

Breaks the woodland’s sleep,

And it’s then that I remember,

“I have promises to keep.”

So softly I pad back

Down this winter woodland trail,

To the waiting warmth of my winter cottage,

To my winter woodland home.

Kathie Adams Brown (12-30-14)

A Winter's Dream

Swiftly on this winter's night
Orion takes his stealthy flight
across the dark and spangled sky
as the cold night slowly passes by,
and we mere mortals stop and stare
into the dome quite unaware
of heavenly battles being fought;
of dreams released and being caught
in sleepy heads on pillows laid--
it's in the stars that dreams are made!

~kathie adams brown (January 6, 2014)

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Red Cardinal Bright

The red cardinal, bright
on a steamy summer's day
offset by gray,
gray sky, gray birds,
like nuthatches and titmice
fighting at the feeder
for the best spot,
and the dull brown of house sparrows
filling the blank spaces,
offset by green,

but there is the red,
red cardinal,
bright as it is on any snowy day
in winter. ~KAB

In the Last Days of Winter

In the last days of winter

hungry hawks hunt my bird feeders,

the bog  thaws and refreezes

and grackles return to the north.

Red-winged blackbirds call from the swamp

their “konk-a-REE” calls trilling over calm waters.

A late February snow starts to fall

with flakes as fine as stardust.

Soon they grow to the size of feathers

white and drifting to the ground,

forming a lumpy blanket on the still brown grass

before they obscure it completely.

Outside my window the gray sky is fractured by the

limbs and twigs of oak trees, maples, and poplar.

How is it that this fractured gray world filled

with drifting snow and downy flakes

can feel so peaceful and soothing?

I am mesmerized by whiteness

and the muffling of the snow,

but the blackbird’s konk-a-REE

as he flashes his red epaulettes reminds me

that under this white blanket the bulbs are warming,

and fine green points will soon poke out their faces

to greet the light of spring.

Kathie Adams Brown (February 29, 2012)

Poem for a Winter's Day

I watch the steady fall of rain against the dove gray sky

Outside my window a few snowflakes fall like tiny pearls among liquid rhinestones

And in the hedgerow the sparrows gather with juncos hopping

Like slate colored shadows

The cardinals shyly watching are the only flash of color on this stormy day.

Here inside from where I watch the fire crackles on the hearth

Its warmth pressing against my back.

It is a pleasant place to be, inside looking out

And I feel the primeval need of this moment

In this technological world I now live in.

I pour myself another cup of tea, and settle in.

~Kathie Adams Brown (January 12, 2012)

The Bones of Winter

Remnants of snow melt into the lake
Swelling its pewter volume to flow like liquid glass
Into the forest edges,
and here I stand among the wet leaves,
brown and rotting on the earth
it’s not quite warm enough yet
for new leaves to unfold,
tender and lime green;
the fingers of sunlight have yet to reach
deep into the soil and caress life into the dormant roots
stroking them tenderly
and encouraging the sap to flow,
enticing new life from black earth.

I see the bones of winter around me
rib cage hung with sinew
hide still on the head
It’s been a long, hard winter
With teeth like a coyote
Biting into flesh,
but with the return of the sun I feel new life
boiling in my soul,
I feel it surging like the rivers
swollen with snowmelt
washing away winter’s bones.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 13, 2011)

In the Backyard the Rain

In the backyard the rain
pounding forms a small pond
up against the iceberg
formed by the last snow storms,
dirty snow piled high
pushed away so one can enter
this backyard landscape, a miniature version
of this wide snowy world
in transition.
Soon the crocus will bloom in the front yard.
Soon, soon.

~ Kathie Adams Brown (February 25, 2011)

Endless Winter

Ice-coated dreams
Running down the windows
Running down the walls
Encasing all in its dripping grip
Of an endless winter.

~Kathie Adams Brown 2-5-11

Aroostook County Winter

The sun shone today.
It glistened and sparkled on the snow.
The wind blew cold upon me
And I felt trapped.
No longer does the beauty
Of this place touch me
The isolation has become a trap.
I feel that I must flee, but,
Where to?
What do I want?
Where is the place
That I can call Home?

~Kathiesbirds (1-22-98)

This Winter White

When the winter dark and dreary
makes me feel, oh so weary,
and my eyes get oh so blurry,
from looking at all this white!
I start to think of sunny things,
pretty flowers, birds with wings,
hiking on a sunny day
through grasses green
and fresh mown hay,
it lifts my spirits and my mind
and mentally I leave behind
this cold white cage that quells my song,
this winter white and deep and long.

~Kathie Adams Brown (2-5-11)

Abundance

Abundance is more than food

or drink,

It is a fullness of heart,

a thankfulness,

a contenment in the soul,

a serenity.

It is a warm and quiet place to eat your breakfast

On a cold winter’s day.

~Kathie Adams Brown (1-20-11)

One Single Impression

Winter Bog

Winter Bog 1-1-11

The winter bog is stark and lovely,

blue and rust, bare bones and ice,

a quiet place for life

until the raucous crows crow! ~KAB

OSI: A Winter's Day

King Mountain Winter by Kathie Brown 1999 Acrylic on Canvas

King Mountain, Blue Solstice

Winter blue shadows fall
On golden left over grass
Evergreen ribbons drape mountain shoulders,
While gray clouds train across the valley
Chugging through the pass,
Just another winter’s day in Idaho,
Just another day to be alive
Just another winter of color
Trapped in the snow’s prisms,
In the fractured flakes melting
In the high mountain desert
Of the Pashimeroi Range,
One short day before
Hope returns with the sun.

~Kathie Adams Brown (December 21, 2008)

(Click on the button for more poetry.)

Winter Wind: Epilogue

Winter Wind blew
through each little crack,
through empty pockets.
Winter Wind blew snow
across the freshly plowed driveway
bringing harsh reality home.
winter wind blew us a-w-a-y- - - - - - -

~kathiesbirds (1997)

Epilogue: With Gus and I both attending college along with our oldest child and three more at home we were not able to buy the Yellow House. We moved out 2 days before Christmas into a rental home where we lived for the next 2 ½ years while we finished school. Money was tight and winter temperatures fell to -35F with wind-chills of -50F, but we survived and graduated from college and moved away from the frozen north. The Yellow House still stands on Rt. 1 in Westfield, though it is no longer yellow and part of the old barn has fallen down. I’m glad I lived there when I did. I hope you enjoyed my memories in art and poetry. There is more to this story and maybe someday I will tell it.

To view all the posts about the Yellow House click on the Yellow House label below or in the sidebar.

Apple Tree

Autumn swells
your branches full,
red blush jewels
on a green tapestry.
Little monkeys we
cling to branches plucking
sweetness for the winter.

~kathiesbirds (1997)

To view previous posts in this Series click on the links below:

Yellow House Post 1

Yellow House post 2

Yellow House post 3

Yellow House Post 4