Season upon Seasons

Changes come in spurts, to paraphrase Emily Dickinson.

Seasons Upon Seasons

Winter is not only
A season of the year.
It sloshes like oceans, my psyche
In this time cycle measured by fear.

My mind creaks, pops, and snaps,
Like a tree frozen all through.
To get through this one night,
Fully all that I can do.

In my harbinger state
I oft' lay awake,
And quandary my reason
For even being.

The black of the ceiling
Is a comfortable feeling
When eyelids of rest
Won't partake.

Drive in a stake
To the heart of the 4:00 am snake
That keeps my head,
Virtually, literally spinning.

One more quake,
All pillows and sheets partake,
In the wrestle, and rustle,
The hassle, the hustle,
This world of so much bustle,
And so little heart.

Find God in my head!
It's the closest church, you see.
Synogogue, Mosque, Shinto Shrine,
Wash me in that holy brine.

Resurrect me from this time.
It's just a winter season,
Needs be no other reason.
Just need reason enough, for now.

The snow will melt again,
Because spring always returns.
The falling rain of winter's melt
Will stop this destructive fire that burns.