a poem in my pocket

i feel winter-green in our grove,

hear flying rabbits skim between

low boughs, and pheasants ring

fowl when  young snowflakes sing

gems to vivacious squirrel whose

audacious red tale awakens oak

leaf from hibernation.  Slow dance

birch bark in silvery-white dress,

smell wisdom of pinecone humming

geometrically-orange rhapsody to

taste clarity of bitterly sweet needles.

Linking to dVerse Poets where Victoria explains “synesthesia”:

There is a neurological condition (called synesthesia) in which the patient confuses sensations. For example, he may taste a fragrance, or hear a flower. Have you ever touched a rainbow or seen a toccata?  The Poetry Foundation defines synesthesia as “a blending or intermingling of different senses in description.” In the world of art, painters make a conscious choice of color to represent feeling or sensation... I invite you to play with mixing up those senses.