Musings on Life, Love, and Linguine-Poetry & Writing
What secret language do the reindeer speak
when tender autumn hovers, trembling
hanging in frost edged grey dawn air
a foreshadowing of frigid cold to come.
Frosted copper leaves have fallen
the towering trees stripped bare
for brittle winter ice is coming
so they hover ever closer together
as the first delicate flakes float free.
©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: Art Flash/55 in November
I love this. Your first stanza is incredible.
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Thank you Toni.
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I think the one on the left is saying “Next year I will pick where we spend Christmas”. Loved the idea of ‘frosted copper leaves’. Beautifully written Linda.
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Thank you!
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I would love to learn reindeer, like the Little Robber Girl in ‘The Snow Queen’. You’ve painted a picture of autumn with a silvery touch, Linda, especially in these lines:
‘…tender autumn hovers, trembling
hanging in frost edged grey dawn air
a foreshadowing of frigid cold to come’.
You’ve evoked the Snow Queen in ‘brittle winter ice is coming’ and the alliteration in ‘first delicate flakes float free’ .
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Thank you for your wonderful thoughts Kim.
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This is beautiful, Linda.
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Thank you Kerry.
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I love how this flows and floats – a wonderful feeling
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Thank you so much.
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I have often imagiined deer have their own secret language. Just yesterday while out for my walk, two deer were in my neighborhood munching grass. When I stopped to photograph them they could have cared less. Can only imagine their conversation.
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What a moment Helen. Thanks for sharing!
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The heating in my car is broken-so this poem resonated with me on a shivering cellular level 😂
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Yikes! 😂 Thanks Vivian.
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😂👍🏽
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I do love it when you present it like this… sometimes you just have to see it with the right eyes to enjoy the fall.
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Yes, thank you Bjorn.
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Thanks Chuck!
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Always my pleasure, Linda!! 💖🌹🌹✨
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Some really pretty imagery you have here. There’s a bit of whimsy with the thought of whispered words between the reindeer, but there’s that sliver of frost, waiting in a way that adds a somber note to the sweetness.
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Thank you Rommy.
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As you write, they are hardy animals and fall is probably so enjoyable for them. 30 degrees is nothing but a delight. I know my horse loves it. But that frigid wet and windy weather – does anyone or thing like it? Your poem hints that not even the caribou do 🙂
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Thank you, Margaret.
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I love the mood and the expression of nature’s language…beautiful
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Thank you Susie.
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Wow this is enchanting
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Thank you.
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