Steps In Between

Celaine Charles ~ My journey as a writer ~ Author site:

First Sunday in March: Poetry from the In-between

shadow love with me and matt

It’s the first Sunday in March and the sun is up, shining hope through cold winter air. I put on a sweater and throw open my windows. I can’t help myself after the long snow-filled February. And then I realize, February is the shortest month of the year. This year it passed like John Green’s line in his book, The Fault in our Stars, “I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

As always, first Sundays are about poetry:, I invite you to share in my latest pieces.

I loved the snow last month. White flakes washing the world clean. “Stay home. Rest. Be.” But now… the sun. Although February still reaches long icy tendrils in my direction, I’m untouchable. I’m free and on the go. And ready for the new spring budding ahead.

march poetry flowers in snow

You see, we’re tucked neatly in between right now, which is my favorite place to be. The end of one season with the promise of another, like a glimpse between veils. It’s when my imagination soars the highest. What stories are behind that stone, still nestled in the remains of frozen ice crystals? Look at the sunray making its way through those branches, bare and stretching their freedom while they still can, before they’re weighed down with the new season’s glory. Their patterns on the ground tell another story, one I have to work at to decipher.

march poetry tree branch shadows

It’s a secret language I must master before the season fully turns, and though I’ve just opened the doors to let it rush in, it will be gone before I blink. So, go… capture it if you can. Writers must write. Artists must create. Musicians must play and sing so the world can dance.

march poetry dear winter

Dear Winter,

            I loved your fresh coat of white, reminding me to settle in. Reminding me of that little girl catching snowflakes on my mittens, wishing one might carry me away. Though I thank you that you left me there to feel the bitter cold. To wipe the snowball bits from the back of my neck, and to get back up when I slid on your ice. As lovely as you swirled in the street lamps from your long journey through the sky, I still had to shovel you up in the morning. Sweat dripping along rosy cheeks. Oh Winter, you are beautiful, but you also remind me who I am. I can rest and watch a while… forever in my hibernation, until you jolt me back to the life I’ve been gifted, and I thank you that Spring is the boost to bring me there. And it’s almost time, so I bid you farewell.

Your friend,

Celaine Charles

photo cartoon pic 2


Image and Content Links: (John Green) (shadow branches) (flowers in snow) (Dear Winter)

Shadow Picture (my hubby and me)

Categories: Thoughts on writing...

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