Changes Spring Forth at Winter's Edge
By Don Iannone

Almost there--
to spring that is.
While a heavy wet snow fell today
...winter knows by now
...that spring is inevitable, and
little can it do
...to discourage spring
...from taking center stage.
Once the crocuses have had
their chance to shine
...the daffodils will take the yard by storm.
And once the daffodils
have gone daffy
...the orange, red, and yellow tulips
will have their way--
until the hungry deer discover them
and mow them down.
So much change springs forth at winter's edge.

Recovering on a Snowy Saturday Morning
By Don Iannone

The fresh fallen snow brings welcomed silence
on a lingering gray Saturday morning.
It whispers and hushes,
as only a tender-loving mother can do.
It buries the agitation, frustration and stress
of a disastrous work week, turning
amusing dreams into horrifying nightmares.
The fresh fallen snow brings insulation
from the pain of self-doubt and self-flagellation--
both all to familiar ways we abuse
the beautiful spirits given us by God.
Once again, there is the reflection:
What really is the work we do?

Snow-Bound Tuesday
By Don Iannone

The winter cares nothing
about whether it is Tuesday,
let alone whether you're cold
and trapped under her heavy wet blankets.
She doesn't mourn your loss of time
due to impassable snow-clogged roads.
Frankly, she does only what she knows how to do,
which is to be winter,
complete with bitter blowing winds, mind-numbing cold,
and deep piles of silencing snow.
Don't blame winter for being true to her nature.
Heed her powerful message: be true to your nature.

Bad Accident on the Interstate
By Don Iannone

Traffic had nearly come to a standstill.
You just knew...
there was a major problem ahead.
It wasn't long before there were
red and blue lights flashing everywhere.
I studied the streak of eerie blue light
making its way across my left hand and arm
propped against the arm rest.
Ten minutes later
we knew exactly what the problem was--
an accident, and a big one at that.
The red flares directed us
to the right berm of the road.
All four lanes were closed by this one--
two trucks, a van, and a car...
all tied up in a knot.
It was a hideous sight, but
the worst part was to come:
the bodies on stretchers;
especially the black man writhing in pain,
while three technicians try to steady him.
It's amazing how much you can observe
in a 30-second drive-by of a truly ugly accident scene.
The images of the horrid scene lingered in my mind
nearly half way to Detroit.
On a frigid, sub-zero morning such as this,
salt doesn't do much to counteract the icy roadway.
I slowed down for the next two hours,
and just accepted that I was going to be late
for my first meeting.

Finding Poetry on a Bitter Cold February Day
By Don Iannone

Bitter cold February wind
bites hard at my near numb cheeks
with its tiny razor-sharp teeth,
as I crunch down the driveway
to dig loose the now meaningless morning paper
from the crusty deep-drifted snow.
Fluffed up morning doves huddle
and peck slow motion
for half-buried seed under the icicled feeder.
Angry winds gather and howl
through the skeleton-like tree limbs.
Lonely songs they sing
about broken unfulfilled dreams
from somewhere long ago.
At twenty below, even the piercing bright sun
fails to permeate the artic air
that hovers thick like death.
For an instant, my mind warms
at the fleeting thought of spring
and fresh-born wildflowers.
But that too is snatched away
by the stinging wind,
that pours bitterness
on misplaced stillborn tears.
Trudging back to the house,
I resolve to build an even larger fire,
and sit in quiet reflection,
until a poem comes to me.
I feel one beginning to thaw.

December Daybreak
By Don Iannone

Deafening quiet December morning.
Still cold air surrounds and bites at nothingness.
Fresh white snow...piled deep, muffles
worldly worries and woes.
Light creeps slowly into day, through naked trees,
awakening bright red cardinals,
plopping from perches into glittering snow
in search of first light breakfast.
No highway sounds, lawnmower roars...
only the sound of lingering stillness
hushing the heart into patient repose.

Encounters with a Long Winter's Night
By Don Iannone










I can't help but dream
on this long winter's night
when the fire blazes bright
and time stands perfectly still.

I can't help but drift
like the fresh fallen snow
that blankets the earth
and hushs me fast to sleep.

Somehow the purity and depth
of this early December snowfall
reminds me how simple life can be
when we just allow it to happen.

On this early winter's eve
the silence plumbs the depths
and awakens me while I sleep
stranding me amidst a single moonbeam.