This is...Winter

This is the hour
Of frozen duress
Waiting for summer
Like a boy for recess

This is the hour
Of frost-gilded limb
Where noon is the whisper
Of day growing dim

This is the hour
Of popcorn and such
Of fire-place gatherings
Instead of the porch

This is the hour
A gardener recollects
The glow of a flower
That spring resurrects

This is the hour
Of mug-warmed finger-tips
Of rosy-cheeked children
Kissed by winter’s lips

This is the hour
Where summer hearts wait
Until spring’s jeweled bower
Closes winter’s gate

Janet~