As the pandemic raged on during the winter and rounds of frigid weather surrounded me, I was frustrated with the self-imposed isolation to try and stay safe coupled with the inability to immerse myself in nature's shows. I turned to my pen to vent my frustration and capture reflections of past memories. The poem that follows, 'Still Waiting,' is one of several poems that I wrote during the last half of the winter season. As I wait for warmer weather so I can work in the garden and escape pandemic woes, I am finding my pen gives me a release that is sorely needed.

Off in dawn's distance

A train chugs along

Down by wide river

Tugboat toots low song

Staccato twitters

Birds calling for spring

Daffodils rising

Seek yellow blooms' zing

Small crocus flowers

Bring hope to my heart

That winter will fade

Warm breezes will start

Brown sheen of garden

Will slowly turn green

Gaining momentum

Bright colors routine

Buzzing of insects

Seek nectar to sip

Garden in motion

Flight paths rise and dip

Watching young seedlings

Reach up towards blue sky

Tree blossoms grow fruit

Read cherries for pie

Fresh greens for salads

Picked for a late brunch

Delight my tummy

With mouthfuls of crunch

Dreaming of springtime

As cold breezes whip

Fingertips tingling

Still in winter's grip

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