Cotton Filled Trees

Life here in New England
Is like a mixed berry tart.
The weather can turn on a dime.
We never know just what we’ll get.
Never can we figure out the reason or rhyme.
Only God knows such certainties;
but I Wouldn’t trade the seasons, for the world.
It’s quite the challenge to predict the forecast. For the spokesman
Who dares to dare … Predict, and then to speak …
of fluffy, floating, cotton filled trees, that morph into candy glazed corn
In the twinkling of an eye.
A foremost, dripping in the breeze;
A sure fired bet; for tomorrows balmy, sunny melt.
Oh just wait, for a moment, and we’re back to a Siberian freeze.
Right now, I’m plowing right through an old television set; with visions of rainbows, through fuzzy jets.
Tune in again; more time for play …
Tobogganists logging, tip to tip.
Skiers sailing, swiftly on slopes
Snow angels for snow birds,
flying down trails
And changes come in lieu of the sun we seek.
From corners four; lots more in store.
More than just weather and horseshoe fun.
God in His mercy is each day won.

Kelly S Griswold
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Have a blessed day friend xo

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