Winter Season

The next piece of writing that I’m going to share, I’ve called ‘Winter Season’. This is a poem from that work.

Winter Season

I sit here staring out the window lately,

dreaming of tomorrows white blanket stately.

Tomorrow, the day that never comes,

but aches like a thorn under your thumb.  

That shining beacon of luster and hope,

so quickly it slips through your fingers like a bar of soap.

But if I sit here long enough,

I will begin to see heavens fluff.

That falls quietly all around,

never making a sound.  

Wrapping my soul in that season

I love best.

When other creatures hid and stress,

I wait.

Never to hesitate.

For that white stately blanket to create –

a crown,

and throughout the ground will drown,

in its crisp clean resounding sorrow,

Tomorrow.