Sometimes, when the temperatures go into a deep freeze and I don’t get outside, I spend time daydreaming about nature and writing poetry. It’s not the same as getting outside and enjoying the natural environment, but it is enjoyable and therapeutic in a natural sort of way. Writing nature poetry gets my mind thinking about nature and all it has to offer; it can shift my mood when the weather is inclement, and it connects me with the natural world in a creative way.
Yesterday was -20° Fahrenheit. Yes, that is a negative sign in front of the 20. It was unreasonably cold outside, and, while I did have to go out a few times (dog, errands…), I didn’t stay out long.
In all fairness to the weather, I’ve been outside enjoying snowshoeing when it was -15° many times. But in my area, there is currently very little snow and no opportunity to enjoy my favorite winter activity. Sigh.
So yesterday, I spent time writing about nature. It was very enjoyable and had my mind longing to get outside and enjoy the world around me. That is on my to-do list for today. It is going to be a balmy high of 27° (yes, still below freezing, but almost 50 degrees warmer than yesterday!).
For this post, I’m going to share some of the winter poetry I’ve written, starting with yesterday’s.
Winter’s Boon
“So cold,” she said to winter sky, with weary shiver, dismal sigh.
“But listen to the cheer, chirp, chirp,” said winter of a lively bird.
She leaned and listened through the trees to bird song drifting on a breeze,
Until she smiled at winter’s boon, of blowing snow and songbird tune.
The above poem was written as I sat indoors and wished it was not so cold. I really wanted to get into the woods and explore. And I could have, but it was one of those days I wasn’t feeling like pushing myself past my comfort zone. I’m a self-pusher a lot of the time, but I have my moments …
I love the word boon here. It means gift/blessing. I have it as “Boone” in another version of the poem. As a name, it means good/benefit/timely blessing. I couldn’t decide if I should refer to winter’s blessing as a thing (boon) or to personify it (Boone). I do like to personify nature. One of my favorite writers, E.B. White (Charlotte’s Web, et al.), was a nature lover who personified things in the natural world. His love of nature was a major influence on his work.
The following are other nature poems I’ve written, mainly centered on winter: a bird (the female cardinal, a favorite of mine), a full moon during winter, being in the woods, and talking to the trees. (Yes, I talk to trees. They are great secret-keepers and never judge!)
She-Cardinal
How do you inspire? With bristling crest,
And ruby-red streaks and amber light vest.
So lovely, so lovely, She-Cardinal words
That answers his call— girly-girly-girly bird.
Your beak crimson red and feathered breast full,
As you shy undercover—pretty she-cardinal.
Frosty Moon
Moon glow splashed in the sky like tangerine dreams,
Rousing the morn, night ripped at the seams.
And the color of moon so bright in the sky,
Warming my soul, And filling my eye.
Frosty Moon sinking down, Sinking down in day,
From early hour, As beams fade away.
Then the sun took its place on opposite shore,
Of sky-like sea and the moon shone no more.
O— but glow from that moon—frost moon, frosty sky—
Stay in my soul, Remain in my eye.
Confiding in Trees
Into the woods, between the trees, on snowy day I voiced my plea
Of secret hope — A covert snare
In desperate words and whispered prayer.
They listened well, the oak and pine; all standing still, those friends of mine
Recording words on birch bark roll, bound and kept like ancient scroll.
Protected deep, as nature scribes; and not exposing my confide,
In peace I walked, in deepest white, and tarried there to edge of night.
When owls hoot and whitetail browse, amid the trees as nature bowed.
‘Til all expression, in the wood, began to still in quiet mood,
The sky grew dim above the trees, and sighing soft, reminding me,
Was time to turn and leave the woods, back to my home and hearth and food.
But having told the my secret thoughts, a freeing peace of which I sought,
Welled up inside and overflowed, spilling down where saplings grow.
Nature certainly sparks creativity and inspires art. I need to remember to bring a notebook and pencil along when I hike. Sometimes a poem floats in on a breeze, and I find it more enjoyable to put pencil to paper than always typing (or talking) into my phone.
I want to encourage you to not only get outside (as often as possible) but also do some writing about nature. Even if it isn’t poetry, just journal about what you see and how it makes you feel. You never know what sort of creativity might be sparked. Nature is full of surprises!
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