This gift of poetry

is as precious as the new year’s rain
replaced by silent prayers of frost
tempering trees with a white crust

it’s as welcome as a new dawn
of impossible colours, deep sky
washed to breath-taking lucidity

it’s the joy of low winter sun
lighting up a butter-yellow aconite
still clenched fist-tight

it’s the trees’ chill breath
of leaf mulch, pine and bark
and the return of the skylark

flying over rivers surging with rain
its tumbling music back again

Kim M. Russell, 7th February 2023

Image by Jack Blueberry on Unsplash

Ingrid welcomes us to the dVerse Poets Pub Poetics this week – with hidden gifts. She tells us that February is the month of her birthday and, every year at this time, she receives a special gift of ‘snowdrops peeking up through the cold earth, the first flowers of the year, and the promise of spring’s awakening’.

Ingrid would like us to write poems about special gifts we have received at some time in our lives: perhaps a longed-for material possession received without expecting it; an object of particular sentimental value; or perhaps a gift of a spiritual nature. She says that we can interpret this prompt in any way we like, and that we can view it as an exercise in gratitude.

Like Ingrid, without having to look much further than my window, I can always find something for which I am grateful. And I love her choice of poems for inspiration.

Also linked up to Sherry’s prompt at What’s Going On? on 23rd April 2025.

44 thoughts on “This gift of poetry”

  10. and the return of the skylark
    flying over rivers surging with rain

    That’s right Kim! Who says winter can be bad! Life returns with birdsongs as before. It is certainly a gift of nature to those who are appreciative. Thoughtful write Ma’am!

    Hank

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  12. You have elaborated on good things Mom Nature brings, every new day, differing season by season, I like every one. I like your rhyme, second and third, I always worry and make a scheme for the first. Don’t worry says my teach. Thank you.
    .

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  13. This is so beautiful, Kim. They are indeed what poetry is made of.

    it’s as welcome as a new dawn
    of impossible colours, deep sky
    washed to breath-taking lucidity……Yeah, no doubt about it.

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