The cold bluster of wispy white slithers across my sill-
As Blue Jays gather to feed in the lonely naked maple outside.
The wind shapes the feathery snow as it sweeps eastward-
Producing faces of winter on the banks below.
The darkened night will arrive just a moment or two slower this eve -
Then the sun will rejoice as it rises the same moment sooner in the morrow.
My human clock will not notice, only incrementally as the days begin to pass -
And my spirit will rise in quickening steps as the days begin to find equality again.
Soon the driven snow will give way to the crocus and daffs on the hill -
The jays to the robins listening intently for the movement of prey.
Rivers will rush where only a frozen ribbon rests now -
And the maple will push forth buds in springs anticipation.
Dripping, the frozen stalactites will melt under the sun moving further north -
Signalling the forsythias and the iris and the daisy.
They will awaken from the sluggish soil, slowly at first
Then with vibrant burst upon the landscape of winter drab.
The artist' brush will mop the canvas outside my window
Yellows and golds and green at last will fill my eyes' canvas
Painted in marvelous shades of colour and sounds over the drab grey dominion
And the smells of spring will have been jolted awake by the sun.
AH - in the waning moments before the darkness loses it's battle with the sun
These thoughts hold my attention and break the hold of winter.
Some days will be dominated by the darkness yet -
But the sun is about to avenge the tragedy.
Jeff