Winter's Return

Winter's Return

Like a greedy politician promising change,
winter creeps in on betraying winds,
and the countryside shudders again.
From the tallest of aged oaks
to the spindliest flowers of fall,
nature yields, as if an obedient citizen.

Winter's bite of change soon numbs the land
and autumn's colors slowly seep into the ground.
Leaves drop and, like grumbled complaints,
hiss along the ground chased by winter's bitter breath.
Critters hide their heads and birdsong
flees to more agreeable climate.

Now under winter's reign,
sapped of beauty — robbed of gold,
a barren countryside lies dead-white,
not really changed, just more naked.
Below the ground, life lingers,
awaiting the thawing of the gloom —
when winter's hold will start to come apart.

Like tears, his promises will drip from gnarled limbs
upon a tattered landscape and seep beneath,
awakening dormant life —
the tender shoots of spring that patiently wait
to spread their colors at winter's burial.

Sadly though, spring is but a short-lived interlude,
for winter, like a pushy politician, returns again each fall.



Inspired by the quote:
"Winter dies into spring, to be born again in the autumn." ~Marche Blumenberg~