August 14th, 2026Local Lines by Joyeux hiver*

My garden wears a shawl of lace
an icy shimmering across the grass.
Cold morning air kisses my face
and air tastes sharp and bright as glass.

Chilly mornings I inch from my bed
coldair coldroom coldfeet coldface
in the waking day, not easy to comprehend
all joy of warm and snug gone, without trace.

But, cinnamon, brown sugar and spice,
hands warmed by hot chocolate, hot toast,
cream and nutmeg on sugared apple pies,
crispy gold potatoes, peas, gravy and roast.

There’s something about the chill and dark
and all those things that winter does
that adds to life a certain spark,
a certain anticipatory buzz.

Its thunder and its lightning
its singing percussive rain
whether peaceful or when frightening,
its endless coming and going again.

A backdrop for Spring and its showy excess.
We stagger outside to a whole new space.
A simple sweetness, not so dramatically intense
made more precious by what it replaced.

*Happy winter

– Rhonda Cotsell

Before retiring to Creswick, Rhonda was a librarian for 30 years in academic and special libraries, and a volunteer in the Creswick Visitor Information Centre. Much of her writing now circles around life there, both its beauty and challenges.

Local Lines features poetry by locals about local and any other matters.
Please submit poems to Bill Wootton at cottlesbreedge@gmail.com