As a child, my favorite season was a bright sparkling world. The clouds poured their glittering white flakes over the house, the yard, the trees, the road, and the little pond in the neighbor’s yard. Before eight in the morning, a snowman had to be erected. If mom couldn’t be persuaded to part from her red scarf, I had to use dad’s. It was threadbare from years of use and covered in little linty pills. But it would do. Sometimes mom let us have hot chocolate with breakfast. We could only have candy canes and marshmallows if it was the afternoon, however.

In winter, the world lives in slow motion. My feet did not run as fast, and the air was slow to come into my lungs. Even the bird that glided on the freezing currents did not pivot or dive as they did in the springtime. The sun slept more, and the nighttime creatures prowled about. I was never afraid. I had a house to stay in. Night held wintry treasures of its own. I’d sit with dad and my baby sister, and we’d listen to the barking coyotes and sometimes the howling wolves in the deepest month of the winter.

Dad’s birthday was in January. He always asked mom to make him a German chocolate cake for his gift. Christmas always distracted us, and too soon, dad’s birthday was upon us. He didn’t seem to mind the homemade cards written in crayon the day of his birthday or the lack of gifts. We’d go to the high school to sled, me, dad, my brother and my baby sister. Mom told us she liked to stay inside, where it was warm.

It has been years since I’ve spent the winter with my family. My dad’s tastes have changed. He no longer wants cake on his birthday. My brother has been at college for a few years, so we don’t see him often. My little sister is studying to be valedictorian; it’s hard to drag her out of the textbooks she lives in. My mom still doesn’t like the cold. Mom and dad had another kid when I was in high school. He likes to build snowmen. I see the same giddiness in his face when the snow gathers on the ground, but it isn’t the same.

That big bright sparkling world has come to be my least favorite season. The sun shirks his duties. The sky obscures the roads and traps people in their homes. The wind ices the road, with ill intent. It becomes so unbearably cold. Even the air I need burns my lungs and freezes my heart. The darkness whispers things that I hadn’t been able to hear as a child.

Where I once saw beauty, I see danger. Where once I reveled in joy, I sink deeper into darkness. Has Winter changed, or have I?

Challenge

Tell me about winter

Poetry or prose. Tell me what winter looks or feels like to you.

Nana_101 in Poetry & Free Verse

Him

I think of the quiet days I spent talking to him, the one I loved.

Challenge

Tell me about winter

Poetry or prose. Tell me what winter looks or feels like to you.

Poetrymom1992 in Poetry & Free Verse

Sad

I stand out there alone in the cold

Warm and embarrassed, and now just alone

I told you how it felt and you said nothing back

I stood there in shock

When the sharp winds of winter attacked

We stood there in silence and you said "Lets just be friends"

My on going nightmare

I should have said nothing to them instead

But why did I admit to him, these feelings that I had?

I know that he didn't like me

Now I'm alone, and cold and sad

Challenge

Tell me about winter

Poetry or prose. Tell me what winter looks or feels like to you.

wynnelarsen in Poetry & Free Verse

Winter in California

Winter in California is a three-year-old girl,

Smiling, giggling,

Charming you with her sunny laugh.

You share pictures of her on Instagram:

“Look at my Winter!” you want to say.

“Isn’t she beautiful!

Don’t you wish she was yours?

I must be doing something right

To deserve a Winter like this.”

You go out to bask in your Winter,

Your glorious life-choices,

Your wonderful parenting.

That’s when Winter stops and howls,

Raging on the sidewalk,

Flailing, hitting, spitting,

Screaming.

You stand helpless,

Alone and wet.

Drowning in the humiliation

Of being caught unprepared

By this sudden tantrum.

The national news shakes its head.

“Isn’t that just like California

To have such a crazy Winter?

Those atmospheric rivers.

Those bomb cyclones.

California’s Winter is so crazy

They had to make up whole new weather names.”

Your family sends texts from places like Ohio.

“Are you okay?” they ask.

“We heard about your Winter.

Why don’t you move back East where Winters are normal?”

You struggle to explain,

“She’s not always like this.

She’s usually so well behaved.”

They shake their heads,

Grateful for their cold, predictable Winters,

Their impeccable life choices.

Your Winter takes a shuddering breath,

Stands up from the sidewalk,

And beams.

Challenge

Tell me about winter

Poetry or prose. Tell me what winter looks or feels like to you.

maahig in Poetry & Free Verse

Snowflakes

In the quiet embrace of winter's chill, a world adorned in a pristine blanket of snow, each flake a delicate masterpiece, I come alive. The air, numbingly perfect, carries the scent of pine and the promise of a silent sanctuary. Trees stand as guardians, their branches heavy with the weight of glistening crystals, sparkling under the moon's tender glow. Footprints leave a temporary mark on the once blank canvas. Cozy hearths call to me, casting warm glows on faces adorned with rosy hues, as the world outside is hushed in a serene lullaby of snowfall. Winter.