When Winter Became a Memory

Two magnolias.jpg

Sometime in the latter half of the Third Millennium,
the atmosphere warmed so that snow no longer fell,
and ice formed only in man-made freezers.

There was no more skiing,
or blizzards,
or ice skating on a pond.
Trips to tropical paradises
were no longer game show prizes,
for Scandinavia enjoyed endless summers.

Sweaters and socks had been replaced with
swimsuits and sandals,
and outdoor activity ceased
between the hours of ten till four.

Some would sleep then,
for the night would be cooler—
lit up like that particle of time
when a lightning bolt strikes,
illuminating the moon-dark.

Timeless was the ice cream cone,
now enjoyed indoors;
endless, the dawn of night chores.

The earth did not become a desert,
for as slowly as it had evolved
through human intervention,
it stopped via the same route.

The air did not so much stir as hovered,
like a hummingbird over hollyhocks.
The waters of the ocean were warm,
and stepping into the pulsing foam,
was like stepping into a lukewarm bubble bath.

The raw, masculine energy of the sun
fueled the livelihood of the planet’s inhabitants,
so that life did not cease,
for what was life without work?

Stables became comfortable places
for humans without homes to stay;
fireplaces had become hiding places.
Athletic stadiums had become like
The Colosseum,
for even the night was too warm for
such strenuous activity.

Mother Earth, like a woman in menopause,
was going through The Change,
but The Change would not last forever.
Solar energy was like the hormones,
regulating Her body—
a temple not of doom,
but a temple of hope for the future
of the nature
of humankind.

Originally written as part of the Writer’s Digest Wednesday poetry challenge, using the theme:  When Everything Goes

How the Owl Got its Hoo

Ollie the Owl perched on a birch,
doing a little soul search.

A fragile foundling he was,
for a forgetful stork,
while grabbing a snack along the way,
had left him at an empty tree stump,
and he grew up to wonder, “What am I? Am I a What?”

Ollie peered down at Peter the Rock,
who told him it was a What,
and that because he was,
Ollie was not.

“Am I a Where?” he asked the Forest Glen,
“Did I come from you?”
The Forest replied,
“I’m a Where—
a Here and a There,
but you—you can only be in one place at at time,
so no, you are not a Where.”

Father Time was passing through,
and Ollie caught him on his way,
“Are you my father?”
but Father Time shook his head and said,
“I am the conqueror of women and men.
You are not, for I am a When.”

Then along came Mother Nature,
who told him she was a How,
and then Cause and Effect came by,
who both claimed to be a Why,
and it wasn’t till he saw Olivia Owl a hoo-hooing,
that he knew he was a Who.