Joan McNerney

Wintry Bouquet

This December

during wide nights

hemmed by blackness,

I remember roses.

Pink yellow red violet

those satin blooms of June.

We must wait six months

before seeing blossoms,

touch their brightness

crush their scent

with fingertips.

Now there are only

ebony pools of winter’s

heavy ink of darkness.

Dipping into memory of

my lips touching petals

tantalizing sweet buds.

My body longs for softness.

I glimpse brilliant faces of

flowers right before me as I

burrow beneath frosty blankets.

Bracing against that long, cold

nocturnal of wind and shadow.


The watching clock

pinches each second,

holds a minute in

its hand...drops,

catching another.

Snow gently falls,

frost gathering upon

the pane.

As gulls

proclaim this

new morning,

the sun rose...

another golden flower!

Joan McNerney © 2014

Blue your eyes

Blue your eyes

this edge of snow

in silent sky.

Brown eyes soft

tree bark patterns as

yellow flicks

sparkle in wintry sun.

And now it seems

your eyes are green

green as spruce

turning to grey eyes

glancing across as if

from a mountainside.

Your eyes two violets

hidden beneath frost.

Close your eyes

as sleepless stars

glide through night

in aerial ballet.

Black coal eyes

glowing on fire

red flames leaping

out of eyes burning

blue your eyes.

Joan McNerney © 2014