Fragrant breeze whispers,
Blossoms bloom in vibrant hues,
Nature's symphony.

          Golden sun shines bright,
          Warm rays caress sun-kissed skin,
          Summer's vibrant dance.

               Leaves ablaze with gold,
               Crisp air whispers change is near,
               Autumn's dormant song.

Snowflakes drift and fall,
Icy winds howl through bare trees,
Winter's stark beauty.

©️Lizzie Bevis

The trees in winter:

no pigeons, no bullfinches --


the nests breaking down.

winter fed us with blood-red berries and ice clouds,
our visible breath soon colder than our lips.
i did not want to see what you had seen,
could not grow out of those sad, sad eyes.
we fell into the calm wave of circumstance
and twilight hurried from us into the dark.
hurried away like the last drop of sunlight
purples the earth, dancing on the edge of the world.
do we wait, stone-heavy, for the last tendrils
of day to melt like ice?
the fearful cold breathes like a fog,
gathers its stars of voice and hill,
gathers memories and distant dreams,
lets us forget.
are you the ghost that lies on the hill
calling to me?
are you that ghost,
whose irons soften like cloud,
whose frozen leaf trembles on the branch
waiting to fall to the whispering land?
your eyes are from the past and yet
they follow like a cold wind blasts.
your eyes, everywhere your sad eyes,
biting like a frost.

They wilt with us you know
the flowers, in winter, in the snow

and we know that flowers come back
but I'm not sure I do

All colorful and fun and smelling sweet
that life, so free, nothing can beat

but I quite enjoy melting in their light
my personal cacophony

Fields turn flowerless
As plants turn powerless
Against the winter cold.
At only three seasons old
Do their stems start to fold,
Heads droop and begin
To wither.
Within
Me
Seems to be
Something similar–
Perhaps I’ll look good for a while
But the smiles
Start to fade
With too little sun
And too much shade.
So I hope knowing me for one
School year’s
Enough– I fear
December’s
Round the corner. Remember
Me at my brightest,
When my roots were strong
And my thoughts felt lightest.
For I long
For your company
But Fate’s decided we
Simply aren’t meant to be.
The storm’s coming around.
This side of me should not be found.

I smelt the snow that covered the parking lot
Too early to live- too late to close my eyes

It had a familiar tang to the linger sting in the air
My youth- stuck to the back of my throat

In memories of grandmas on christmas day
Preparing desserts that would never taste the same again

Mixed with the exhaust of a cold winter morning
The taint of growing old and fading tree lights

I smelt the snow that covered the parking lot
Too soon i remembered where i was- too soon i opened my eyes

The beach in winter is my crying place
The shower will do
Sometimes the car
The tucked-away toilets at work
They are containers
But the beach is
My accomplice

We mourn together, weather gives us room
The wind assists, insists that others leave
If some resist, enlists the sand to
Reinforce the clear command with
Stinging pressure, stresser that the
Beach in winter is for us
And us alone
To sit
And safely grieve

I would be this gentle mist that lingers
On autumn’s flowered field—
Yet I wish I could be a golden sunbeam,
Painting my lover's lashes in a gilded haze.
But that is not me. With gentle kisses,
I **** the summer’s flowers;
I am the coldness they fear.
I wrap the earth within my arms, but blind its sight—
My love summons winter’s night to arrive,
Stilling the pulse of all that once breathed life.
I swear my love brings death to every chamber,
But maybe that is the price we’re meant to pay.
For love and pain have always been entwined,
And when we bleed, as everyone must one day,
We will bleed as one.

-Sonja Kettunen (ig: @sojafoxpoetry)

I sit at my desk
The window’s open,
Or it's shut. I don't remember
But I feel cold
My hands wrapped around a pole at a skating rink,
trying to keep myself from slipping
On the cool, smooth surface.

I am walking on the freshly fallen snow,
I am thinking

I stare out the window,
Partially obscured by dark curtains.
They are caught on my plants;
Never fully closed,
Never open wide.
This is what makes me think
The inbetweeness that is what makes

nothing good or bad,
But I used to think there was.
I twisted the sheets of my perception until
The bed was unmakable and I gave up the fight
I sunk into the mattress
And closed my eyes

But this monotony is getting old;
A cut spoiling behind a worn bandaid.
I hated myself for caring
But I now I don’t.
That’s the point. I don’t care about anything anymore
I am trying to hold on to the things that once mattered
But the merry-go round is only going faster
Soon enough I’ll have to get off.

I am looking out the window
Because I can’t focus on anything anymore
I let my eyes glaze over
Because it's easy
Painless.
They don’t focus on anything.
Everything is white, white, white