These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Snow Fields

When traveling through the heart of The South,
we find the rarest gift.
By putting the hand quite over the mouth,
we find the heart doth lift.

'Tis early in fall as the snow is far north
when too the gift of white,
the harvest of cotton, soft in its worth
makes all the fields so bright.

The snow of The South is cotton in bloom.
The bolls we pick to make
good clothing we craft in the finest of loom.
The touch to skin's at stake.

The cold we don't need for snow in our field.
It's soft to touch and warm.
The bright white will stay no matter our yield.
The value's in its charm.

But come in the spring and summer to see
the rainbow in our field
for many the colorful bags there will be
of onion's bountied yield.

line count: 20
poetry form: ballet quatrains of anapestic & iambic feet
prompt number: Prompt #5 (February 5, 2026)

by Jay O’Toole
on February 7th, 2026