written by: Ann Christine Tabaka
Saturday morning, silence
broken only by the wren’s
scolding trill. Cherry blossoms
bloom no more. Ice stares
down the last ray of hope.
Trees shake off day old snow
from barren limbs. Winter garden
dry, brown, dead, but not dead,
merely asleep. Hibernation mode.
Seasons march their pace.
They cannot be rushed.
Wait, we must. Rejoice
In nature’s wisdom.
There is no other path.
Ann Christine Tabaka
SEPTEMBER 2018 / MAY 2021 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year, her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020 and 2021,” published by Sweetycat Press. She is the author of 14 poetry books, and 1 short story book. She lives in Delaware, USA. She loves gardening and cooking.Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are: Eclipse Lit, Carolina Muse, Sparks of Calliope; The Closed Eye Open, North Dakota Quarterly, Tangled Locks Journal, Wild Roof Journal, The American Writers Review, Burningword Literary Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Silver Blade, Pomona Valley Review, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Fourth & Sycamore.
Latest posts by Ann Christine Tabaka (see all)
- Going Fishing - April 7, 2022
- Circle Songs - January 15, 2022
- The Life That I Have Led - September 27, 2021