Three-Line Poems (Assorted)

by richardhutton

The street preacher –
A lot of nonsense;
But the spring day.

Were it spiced,
It would be my snow,
Their snow.

Bitter cold;
A bit of a shiver
From the moon.

Bitter cold.
My hands are
The dwelling place of winter.

Bitter cold;
Frost is crushing
The chickweed.

Bitter cold;
The fox
Darts across the snow.

Bitter cold!
Even frost upon
The stars.

Bitter cold.
A slight wind;
The winter moon.

Evening chill;
The moon treads upon
The lake.

Hail falling;
The goose washes himself
Amidst the ice.

Hail falling;
The wife of the goose
Shaking her head.

Spring approaching.
Eating alone
The old man.

Lengthening days.
The voices of
The earthworm chorus.

The battle is over:
The winter wind
Has felled the old tree.

Autumn night.
The spider has had
No luck today.

The sound of the wind
Now and then;
The bright autumn moon.

Summer is over;
The hawk has made
A fresh kill.

Autumn dusk;
All is quiet;
The beating heart of the mouse.

Summer wind.
The flower awaits
The bee.

A winter night.
The spider –
It waited in vain.

Bitter cold!
The frosty leaves
Crackle – snap!

Evening cool.
The wind drifts through
The graveyard.