Pickled summer

I pickled summer
saving shimmered trance
breeze of melt and green.

I added moss rose
musk
our solstice dance,
and heartbeat skips
of moonstone lull.

The jar
(now twisted shut)
bubbles, grins,
anticipates
my needs
on barefoot journey
through winter’s snow
to distant spring.

Jar of Peaches by Claude Monet

Jar of Peaches by Claude Monet

A second entry for my own prompt at dVerse, a Quadrille 44 words including jar. I have also tried to use all the other words we have had in the quadrille.

I also link this up to the Open platform at toads
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August 15, 2015

39 responses to “Pickled summer

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  2. I love the idea behind this poem – the endeavour to preserve something of the summer time for the long winter months ahead.

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  4. Love this one! Pickling summer to open that jar on the coldest days of winter. Especially for folks in Sweden with the everlasting nights. Wonderful! 🙂

  5. That first stanza drips with poetry. I thought the word “moonstone” was going to be “moonshine,” so close to jar and all.

  6. Love the thought of pickling summer, preserving that warmth for wintry days. The inclusion of all of the quadrille words is seamless, like it was meant to be.

  7. Nice poem, Bjorn. We here would like to save some of our winter’s goodies for the hot summers.
    The Quadrille sounds like a fun prompt, I have a jar in mind. Now if I can find the time.
    ..

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  10. “I pickled summer…” Bjorn, I just love you, I do. That first stanza seems like a handful of words that come to one just out of the dream state. My husband, Lex, just listened to me read this aloud, and he said, “Pickling summer, capturing it in a jar to nibble at during winter. What a cool idea!” High praise indeed!! Love, Amy

  11. This is very cool. I love the idea of pickling summer – as I grew up in a house where, my mother tried to do just that … well, pickles, beets, beans and cabbages, at any rate. Pickling does create an odd, off-putting smell. (I remember my parents were making sauerkraut the day my husband came to pick me up for our first date.- pew-yew – I thought that was the last I’d see of him: hence the grinning, bubbling jar, hit a humorous cord with me – a test of endurance, perhaps.)

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