Hot Winter Poem by Mohammad Yousef

B Mohammad A.Yousef

In a season known for cold,
snowflakes fall like whispers,
but this year, warmth blooms
like a stubborn flower in an unexpected garden.

The sun hangs high,
its rays stretching out,
filling the air with a strange paradox—
the chill of December meets the sweat of July.

Scarves drape on shoulders,
but jackets stay folded,
while breath clouds dance
in the golden light,
lost in heat.

Children build snowmen,
not of ice but of dirt,
their laughter a strange song,
echoing against the bright backdrop
of a sky too clear for winter's pageantry.

We sip steaming cocoa,
all the while feeling the sun's hands
drawing us closer,
like a warm blanket
wrapped too tightly,
or hugs that linger longer than expected.

The trees stand half-dressed,
leaves reluctant to fall,
clinging to the branches like memories,
wondering if winter got lost on its way here,
or simply decided to skip town.

December, usually crisp and silent,
now pulses with life,
an unexpected dance,
where frost and sunshine compete
for the heart of the season.

We dream of snow,
flurries painting our wonderland,
but instead, we unearth seashells,
the ocean calls us in whispers—
come and play in the sandy warmth of now.

Hot winter, the paradox we embrace,
where sun-kissed cheeks replace rosy noses,
and the lines of the calendar blur—
the holiday lights shine brighter,
flickering in the heat of an eternal summer.

Let's toast to the days to come,
where winter wears a crown of sun,
and every moment feels like joy—the thrill
of discovering warmth in the chill,
when nature defies reason,
and we revel in the strange,
in the beauty of this hot winter.