winter | Reflections on the Teche

Posts Tagged ‘winter’

Slice of Life: Blizzard of Enzo

Posted in Writing, tagged nature, snow, weather, winter, writing on January 21, 2025| 12 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

I woke up this morning to snow, snow, snow! That may not be so unusual for those of you in most of the country, but to us in South Louisiana, this never happens. It’s never happened in my 42+ years of living here. The prediction was for 4-8 inches, and I believe we have reached the higher mark. I’m sure it’s a problem for some because our systems are not prepared for this, but I’m enjoying all the texts of photos and videos of my grandchildren. I’m staying warm and safe.

Here’s a gallery of photos:

Winter Storm Enzo Pantoum

Flakes of white flutter in the wind
as snow layers over green.
Festival of inches is a historical event–
One hundred years before snow returns.

As snow layers over green,
dim light shines on bayou brown.
Will snow return in a hundred years?
“This snow is awesome!”

Dim light shines on bayou brown;
Old boots from a dusty box I found.
“This snow is awesome!”
The world stops, watches, and listens.

Old boots from a dusty box I found
stomp in a festival of inches, a historic event,
while the world stops, watches, and listens
as flakes of white flutter in the wind.

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Winter Drive

Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, nature poem, nonet, sunset, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, winter on January 8, 2025| 19 Comments »

I took this photo from my car window last Saturday as I drove home from Mississippi, from visiting my mom. As I drove farther west, the sun played peek-a-boo in and out of the clouds. I have so many mixed feelings while driving these flat Louisiana country roads. Longing for home while my mother tugs at my heart strings. I have this difficult feeling that I may not see her again mixed with the joy of being with her. She still knows me as someone she loves. Her face brightens when I walk in the room. While I was there, she ate her whole lunch.

Often I find solace in nature, that somehow the natural world knows how I feel and gives me something to hold onto. On this day, it was the setting sun sending rays out from behind the gray clouds.

For our time together writing about a photo, I like to turn to form. Form can give me comfort, too. A safe space to hold my emotions. Today I chose the nonet, nine lines in which each line reduces by one word, beginning with nine. I like how the form looks like a setting sun.

As the sun melts slowly on the horizon, remember
your heart is a safe place for love,
where even on the coldest winter days,
you know you are a child
playing peek-a-boo with the sun.
Memories of happy smiles
fade and lift
an inevitable
horizon.
Margaret Simon, draft

I hope your winter days are giving you some time and space for writing. Please leave a small poem, form or free verse, in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.

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Poetry Friday is Here!

Posted in Poetry Friday, tagged #beingmamére, grief poems, haiku, Leigh Anne Eck, ReadWriteThink, winter on February 15, 2024| 47 Comments »

Welcome to Poetry Friday. I am happy to be hosting this week. I chose this week because I am out of school for the week for Mardi Gras break. I’m sorry you do not all get this break. It has been so much fun. And today the fun continues with all of your poetry goodness. Find the link up at the end of this post.

Leigh Anne Eck is naming skies. On Thursday, I read her post on Facebook alongside a photo of a sunrise. She wrote “Today’s sky is “step.” I hope you “step into a new day” and “rise up from the dust and walk away.” Following the madness of Mardi Gras, coming home to the solemn Ash Wednesday, I felt surreal, a mixture of fantasy and fact. Her message grounded me as did my morning walk through my familiar neighborhood. Home.

I thought I might get a poem from all of this, yet that poem is still brewing. Today I am sharing a sweet haiku I wrote about my 4 year old grandson picking a wildflower for me. Here is a photo of the tiny blossom in a Mardi Gras cup. I wrote the haiku using Read, Write, Think Haiku interactive, a prompt from Donna Smith.

Winter in Louisiana is mostly wet and humid. On an early morning walk while walking through the foggy air, a grief poem came to me. Maybe reading these two poems side by side will put you into that surreal mood I’m in, where there is joy and grief and everything in between.