Here we sit this winter in  uncommon weather conditions. Europe is getting slammed and we are simmering in what may be considered early spring or late fall weather. I am not complaining, however I do wonder in what manner will Mother nature extract payment.
I finally received a poem. I took liberties in writing it. In truth there was no snow or ice in the stream bead. and the water runs freely sining a winter song. It is short but I hope it is ok.



Winter's Butterfly

At the feet of sleeping trees

a bed does lay

trimmed in winter white

Pillowed on ice...

a winter butterfly within

its' cocoon

murmurs in sleep...

 stirring soft dreams beneath

its' frozen blanket...

The stream

waits only for Spring's

first rainbow...

to shed its' cocoon

and share new treasures

ccd Feb. 2012