Deb Johnston

Birdcalls break morning silence.

Purple, yellow, green, replace brown,

as earthy scents defrost.

Ferns uncoil and warmer breezes caress.

Trees sway in jubilation.

                   —Deb Johnston

A tiny cloud rises from my coffee,

as a lone hawk swoops from birch to pine.

Patches of white mend the gray-blue sky.

Ice and snow stretch out to rough open water.

How to survive these near-endless winters—

a signal lifts along my cup in a twirl.

The coffee cools, the message fades.

I return to the bubbling pot for more clues.

                                       —Deb Johnston

spreads the night lights

across the heavy sky.

Shadows on the snow

play tricks on the eyes,

turn evergreens into pawns.

With rook and knight captured,

the queen is unprotected—

a January moment surrenders.

        —Deb Johnston

From the cabin window

winter approached

on icy waves.

Slapping the shore’s cheekbones

causing a spray of tears

that convulsed, then spattered.

We woke early to witness

open water surrender

locked into crystal caves.

              —Deb Johnston

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. 

― Charles Dickens

Expose’

Gone is the comfort of green,

urged ablaze in crimson, gold.

Gone is the the canopy shade

now shriveling on the ground below.

Brawn is the the burgeoning trunk,

laid bare the tell tale burl.

To disclose traces

of pest and community,

plight and promise,

drought and bounty,

a century divulged.

   —Deb Johnston

Walt Whitman —To think that the rivers will flow, and the snow fall, and fruits ripen,

Winter is coming..

—Deb Johnston

daylight shortens

north winds sigh

these continental birds

follow their landmarks

in search of the suitable 

the precious wetlands

for wintering grounds

wings and legs outstretched

the flock passes overhead

this grand species

joins the flyways

rest  eat  survive 

in grasslands and farm fields

then journey onward

envoy of the skies
— Deb Johnston

Lumens of brightness,

shed light within the forest,

in lime, orange and gold.

–Deb Johnston