The dormant tree sleeps, branches stretched out
As if into the rumpled bed linen of the night.
Below, the ice-laden field waits for the nightmares
To yield when the thaw finally declares itself.
An aching stillness replaces song, 'Farwell sweet friend,
The birds have fled, farewell and be gone!'
In swirling mist, wet with memories, sadness
Takes a fancy to the damp eyes of winter’s children.
Sodden red stars squelch beneath wandering boots
As the days march into the remorse of yesteryears.
In the paused hearts of trees there waits a promise,
Silent as a bloodied victim on the ground, unconscious.
In the golden light ice cracks and surrenders;
forgiveness is the act of closing a door on stored pain.
In lengthening darkness ice resets, a body
Reacquaints itself with the weight of a bitter aspect.
Each spring, under golden light,
a miracle occurs.
Every winter, in swirling grey,
it is utterly forgotten.