Tawny feathered tops of poplars
edge the rim of a china blue bowl that is the winter sky.
Frosty air shimmers,
the sun hovers just above the horizon,
gold slipping across the fields,
now stripped of harvest,
striped with vines tangled and torn.
A honk sounds,
and rippling lines of white wings,
like frothy waves,
flow east.
It’s December,
the swans herald its coming…
winter solstice.
wake up and write 
December 6th, 2011 at 8:17 am
You’ve created such a strong image with this poem. So many great lines–Tawny feathered tops–frosty air shimmers–rippling lines of white wings like frothy waves–swans herald the coming of winter solstice–
Wow–I like them all.
December 6th, 2011 at 12:36 pm
This creates such a clear mental image with your words. Beautiful!
December 6th, 2011 at 12:56 pm
Beautiful picture you’ve painted here. I’ve read it a couple of times…will head back to read it again.
December 6th, 2011 at 2:47 pm
Stunning. Just stunning. Thank you for your beauty.
December 6th, 2011 at 5:06 pm
Just wonderful images. I love ‘the rim of the china bowl that is the winter sky’ and ‘frosty air shimmers’. It really does! We’ve had a real cold wave arrive, below zero last night, so I know this picture! Thanks for painting it for us.
December 6th, 2011 at 5:46 pm
Ooooh, love to savor the images you created and your writing felt extra wintery with the falling snowflakes. You almost make me like the fact that winter is almost upon us. Lovely. 🙂
December 8th, 2011 at 5:34 pm
Loved your poem, especially this line: Tawny feathered tops of poplars edge the rim of the china blue bowl that is the winter sky. Lovely!