Dance toward Spring, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Elisabeth Sonrel - Dance Toward Spring (1904)

Elisabeth Sonrel, Dance toward Spring (1904)

Dance toward Spring

Wild woolly winter with its nasty chill,
Not as daunting as it may first appear.
Many times when it provides quite a thrill,
Especially when with those who are dear.

New fallen snow such a beautiful sight,
As it lays silent, to feel crisp clear air.
Calling for banking the fire for the night,
And a blanket with a love one to share.

There are days when the cold teases the skin,
And moments when it slashes as a lance.
Be brave shrug it off with a thoughtful grin.
Keep warm holding love one close as you dance.

Continue to dance all the winter long,
Soon it will be time to sing a spring song.

 

Spring in Torbole, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Monsted Peder Mork - Saint Andrea's Church in Torbole (1909)Saint Andrea’s Church in Torbole, Peder Mork Monsted (1909)

Spring in Torbole, Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Soon I will be harking to the church’s bell,
Giving me time to sit here for a spell.
To give Him thanks that it is here I dwell,
And pray I forever be in this dell.

It is spring so now I smell the good earth,
Which with the sun shall bring about new birth.
In our many fields there shall be no dearth,
From those hours worked before taking our berth.

If there be any doubt in what I say,
And of given reason for which I pray,
Suggest you linger long, extend your stay,
For sure you will not choose to move away.

Listen to the sweet sound, it calls all now,
To thank Him who this place to us endow.

 

Skittle Alley in Saeby Forest, a poem by Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Aagaad Carl Frederik Peder skittle-alley_in_saeby_forest (1882)Skittle Alley in Saeby Forest. Spring Morning, Carl Frederik Peder Aagaad (1882)

Skittle Alley in Saeby Forest, Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Winter has finally said its goodbye.
Was it easy on our skittle alley?
To Saeby Forest our eag’r feet shall fly,
With skittles in a bag, all are antsy.

Holding our breath, we will soon discover,
Will we play, or the balls sit anoth’r day?
At the count of three, we lift the cover.
Money’s in the pot, we’re ready to play.

Quickly, from the many sticks take your pick,
To set the order of how we will roll.
Now approach the alley to do your trick,
What great skill, where did you learn how to bowl?

Game prevails from millenniums ago,
By my simple count continues to grow.

 

Spring, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Voscher Leopold_Heinrich_Vöscher_Gebirgslandschaft_mit_GletscherGebirgslandschaft mit Gletscher, Leopold Heinrich Vöscher (n.d.)

Spring, Robert A Sieczkiewicz

Suddenly it’s spring, a time of rebirth.
Sun tells mountains to set the waters free,
Then green is the new color of the earth,
In fields and forests ever so densely.

As a sleeping bear comes forth from its den,
So has my soul at winter’s bitter end.
Feels so lightened now that it is open,
To get out as there are fences to mend.

Gather together with friends once again,
Each lending a hand whenever they can.
There’s real joy in all hearts for certain,
Looking around we see empyrean.

In our hearts spring is valued more than gold,
With happiness its glory is extolled.