Ornery Winter,
flabby arms across his chest,
sulkily sits
atop his termite throne.
Spring politely cajoles.
Perhaps it’s time to move on?
Winter won’t budge.
She bribes him
with sweet-scented blossoms
and gentle caressing breezes.
He’s tempted,
but digs in his heels.
Finally
Summer storms in
with intense heat
and a legion of thunderous clouds.
Buffeted on all sides,
Winter sighs
and heaves his heavy frame
skyward.
Without a farewell
he plods away
like a resigned tortoise
in search of peace.
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For today’s prompt, take the phrase “________ of the ________,” replace the blanks with a new words, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.
little learner 