Last Days of Winter

by Rebecca Braun

Morning mist slowly crawls
across the bare wet ground;
a shadowy apparition,
attempting to melt the earth
in the cold gray morning haze. 

Across the lake
geese are honking and arguing,
filling the early morning light
with the promise of spring.

One lone fisherman
still challenges winter’s hope,
trudging through the watery pools of ice and slush,
sitting down on his five-gallon bucket
and dropping a line.

The humid hazy air grows thick,
the geese play and chatter,
the haunting mist rolls ever so gently
as the sun begins to rise
breaking through the morning fog.

The lone fisherman dreams
in the early morning stillness,
savoring the thawing silence
knowing his days are numbered.

He basks in the limited moments left to him
before the earth and water warm;
the world is awakening
and today may be the last.

I live in Minnesota. What can I say? It’s cold here! I am a semi-retired music teacher looking for a new career, and hoping it will be writing! I have a border collie whose name is May, and a kitty-kat named Maple. I love flower gardening, snowshoeing, taking long walks with my dog, and writing poetry.

2 Comments for “Last Days of Winter”

Mary Jane Tejeda


Rebecca, you paint such a rich and lovely portrait in this poem. Such a wonderful depiction of your home or some place like it. Bravo. MJ:).

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