Three Tree

Snow on three tree

Fairies rocket down the Three Tree,
On zooming toboggans, happy as can be.
Can you see them tumbling and swerving?
Oh to be tiny, magic and free. Yearning.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

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Note: This poem is offered as part of Poetry Friday. Thanks to Elizabeth Steinglass for hosting this week. I am out of town, but I will be back in a few days. I look forward to catching up with all of you when I’m back. Warmly, Brenda

Now You See It, Now You Don’t

Here is the bench before the Nor’easter,

Granite Bench

And where is the bench now?

Snow covering bench

Now you see it, now you don’t!
Mother Nature’s sleight of hand
Is more magical than any of man.
What could be hiding under there?
Perhaps a family of icy hedgehogs
And a passing brownie sipping chai.
Under the bench, they stop to say Hi,
Peeking out at other passers-by.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: New England was blessed with over two feet of snow in 24 hours and two snow days! We shoveled four times. We went sledding twice. We had one epic snowball battle. We drank hot chocolate with friends. We had a weekend in the middle of the week! Stay warm! 🙂 School is on again tomorrow.

Ode to a Snowday


Oh the excitement! A storm is coming,
Weather forecasters are so seldom wrong,
Rumors are flying, and nerves are humming.
Even teachers smile at the hopeful throng.

Internet weather searches are many
The night before a major storm comes through.
A young child’s face shines like a new penny.
Even parents hope, at least one or two.

The first flakes fall unnoticed in the dark,
Stars hidden by clouds, snowflake stars falling,
Lightly, but thickly, on tree, road and park.
Schools are closed only after some stalling.

Parents and kids sleep in past the gray dawn.
Parents sleep longest, quiet kids watch cartoons.
Mom comes down to breakfast with a yawn,
Dad flips pancakes. Kids eat peaches with spoons.

Weather is perfect, just below freezing.
Snow is heavy, wet, perfect for packing.
We play outside all day without sneezing.
Children roll giant snowballs for stacking.


Seedpods make spiky eyes and twigs form arms,
Meanwhile, two boys sling snowballs from sled forts,
Pink-covered smallest makes snow angels farms,
And we sled until we’re soaked to the shorts.


Dry clothes and cocoa with marshmallows untold,
Help finish shoveling, board games to play,
As the plows finally clear our back road.
Oak leaves dangle forlornly with snow’s weight.


Tired children fall into their warm beds.
Coats drip dry by radiators, thumping,
Parents mop up water and shake their heads,
Pray for sunshine before tired slumping.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Inspired by Painttheworldwithwords weekly poetry prompt, and her helpful post defining an ode, with links to, among other great odes, Keats’ Ode to a Grecian Urn, Shelley’s Ode to the West Wind, and Creeley’s America.

‘Tis the Season Haībun

There’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.
— Erma Bombeck


When I was a child, I hated suspense, and all my energy went into solving mysteries quickly. I generally figured out who did what where in the game Clue, where the flag was in Stratego and what I was getting for Christmas. Continue reading