Category Archives: winter

Winter Stream

Winter Stream

The wintry wind has brought the snow; the trees are bare and lost their glow;
absent is the 
hearkening starling’s song.
The summer’s warmth is high and thin, the summer geese have left, again
  the bright and cheery grasp of summer, gone.

I walk along the bubbling stream covered in snow like shaving cream;
  the bottom rocks now blackened to my eye.
the sound of swishing in the trees is like a murmur in the breeze
  sparrows noisily fighting,  passing by.

Along this stream in summer time, I like to sit with rested mind
  up against a cottonwood and gaze
far beyond the water’s edge, up the hill and past the hedge
  at fields of corn and ripened wheat, ablaze

in the soaking rays of the summer sun; those lazy days stacked full of fun
  that make the imagination come alive
like when I saw a fairy, who,  blended with the water’s hue
  and danced in tune with a beautiful dragonfly.

I stop and reach down for a rock and throw and skip it toward a block
  of logs out in the middle of the stream
jammed up high like a superdome built by beavers for a home
  as we all await another summer dream.

(third stanza reference to my poem, ‘Cottonwood Stream’  January, 2012)
(fourth stanza reference to my poem, ‘Fairy Jolie’  January, 2012)

© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

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Filed under dragonfly, dream, fairy, geese, Hawk, snow, winter


Do you still make a snowman or show the kids how to make them?  Sometimes, they just show up in the yard……friends bring them ‘over.’  Maybe they just pop up….who knows.  At any rate, they are seasonal ‘friends’  to laugh and play with and share with the children and the children at heart.  Happy holidays to all.




In many a town, like one that you know,
they’ll pop up each winter, right out of the snow.
They might be alone or they might be in threes;
out front by the street or in back by the trees.

They might be quite tall or sitting on a box
all wearing scarves…. made of old socks;
eyes black as coal with a carrot for a nose
with buttons in a line right down to the toes.

They’ll always have a smile…. all over their face
as they greet you each time, when you enter their space.
They’ll stand there all night, while you snuggle in bed
chilled by the rays…. of the moon, overhead.

Around them we’ll dance and sing them a song
‘til the cold months have passed…. and winter’s along.
And we’ll wink a goodbye ‘til the next year’s new snows
bring back our snowman…. when the winter wind blows.

© t. j. gargano 2013

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Filed under snow, snowman, winter

Prairie Flyer – Part VII

Prairie Flyer – Part VII

“Wreckage of a small bi-plane was discovered today
strewn ‘cross a field over Ogallala way
in what appears to be a weather-related mishap,”
the radio blared out through the static flap
making it hard to distinguish the details.

The venison stew was steaming in bowls on the bar top
as Harley reached for the crackers, that he proceeded to drop
hitting them on the cupboard door then groaning as he picked them up
as I headed toward the window to the sound of a wolf pup
but it was nothing but the billy goat sounding like one.

“Searchers at the crash site, up in Nebraska, say a yellow plane
hit a windmill, presumably in the driving snow, that came
out of nowhere to surprise everyone in the region yesterday,”
the KCMO station continued to report as Harley and I made our way
to the counter bar and the great smelling stew.

“The fatality is Catherine “Star” Lovecampe from Oswego, Ohio,”
the broadcast continued through the static as it gave her part-bio
as we both sat in silence…. listening the best we could
to the little white Philco radio that looked like it had hit the floor’s wood
many times and was just trying to hang on.

In our shock we reminisced the brief moments we shared with her
and how her ‘freshness’ illuminated the room and belied the temperature
of the outside briskness and how nice it was to see a woman flyer
light down on this little airstrip with gusto that was like a trip wire
that mesmerized the both of us in a very enchanting way.

Her brief appearance, in our lives, served notice to us both
about space and time and how important sharing is…. in the growth
of our life cycles that are different when we’re alone
and Harley set a bowl for Star on the counter, by his own,
and we talked how she would’ve loved that stew….and we felt better.

© t. j. gargano 2013

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Filed under airplanes, barnstormer, prairie, prairie flyer, snow, winter

It’s Mornin’

It’s Mornin’

The sun may die
and the moon may hide
but the wind will blow in the mornin’.

And you may fear
all the things you hear
but the wind will blow in the mornin’

And you will come and I will see,
the little girl inside of me….
standing there with tearful eyes
come on now, please don’t cry….it’s mornin’

The leaves may fall
at ol’ winter’s call
but the wind will blow in the mornin’

Trees, once fair are
caught in winter’s stare
but the wind will blow in the mornin’

Icicles are all around.
Winter’s finally come to town.
Bringing all her splendid gifts
and just for you, a Christmas wish….it’s mornin’

And so, my friend,
faith will always win
’cause the wind will blow in the mornin’

And you may fret
but you won’t forget
’cause the wind will blow in the mornin’

And you will come and I will see
the little girl…inside of me
standing there with tearful eyes
come on now…please don’t cry…’s mornin’

copyright © 2012 T.J. Gargano

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Filed under Friends, people, winter

Winter’s Long

The Illinois winter was not overly severe or cold last year, but because it started early in October, and consistently rendered  ice and snow repeatedly and frequently into the month of March, it became, on the minds of many, long and dreary.  One day I had to say something….


Winter’s  Long

Winter’s worn her coat too long.
It’s time the winds bring summer back.
Birds are busy but not with song
Winter’s worn her coat too long.
And February’s temperatures, so cold, seem wrong
And it’s hard to remember the dirt, black.
Winter’s worn her coat too long.
It’s time the winds bring summer back.

copyright © 2011 T.J. Gargano


Filed under poetry, snow, winter