In the winter

Coating the earth, dormant

Tree tops bowing heavy

Protested by the birds above

And the residence of squirrels

Perched in holes near the thicket

Of pine needles bursting forth in all directions

The sound of breaking glass or

Crinkle chips under foot as we

Wander out in the still evening

Crisp, below freezing the wind

Whispers on the cusp of the new

Snow just fallen. the whisper

The nagging reminder that it has begun

The race has started,

The doldrums of early sunsets

And dark midnight’s solemn chorus

Howls in frost bitten ears;

Perhaps this time I should have worn

my stocking hat…but ah

This season of frost and snow

Beckons me onward and I

Break the unseen underfoot

Blanketed until the melt of

early spring…when life renews

its hibernation and these ears

stop protesting the bitter breath of winter.


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