Winter Scenes by Karen Stephens
seen Winter; its cold, grey mornings,
Its frozen mist-drops clinging to yielding tree branches,
Its glass-like tears sparkling in the short noon sun,
I have seen Winter.
heard Winter; its fast-moving wind noises,
Its sharp voice piercing the solemn quietness of the day,
Its crunch where the crusty snow gives way,
I have heard Winter.
touched Winter; its frosty whispers on my face,
Its white, wet iciness in my boots,
Its fresh, clean air, breathed in deep draughts,
I have touched Winter.
known Winter; in its most violent tempers,
Through its placid dreamings,
In its soothing vastness,
I have known Winter.
I am de-Christmased. The ornaments are tissued and boxed. The lights are rolled and bagged. The tree branches are sorted, bundled and packed away. My home has a certain strangeness to it now that the clutter and bright lights of Christmas are gone. It looks naked. I like the nakedness of the house now, though it could certainly use a bit more stripping. Now the bleak cold of January can take over. And that means that Spring is inching ever closer!
(today’s poem is brought to you by my lovely friend, Karen Stephens)