It's Winter

Last summer I wrote It's Summer. 


   

This morning I needed to dig for the silver-lining in this long cold-snap...because It's Winter

It’s winter and the world that curled like kittens at our feet

Is wrapped in satin ribbon; chiaroscuro unmarred

The trees that sighed with summer-song lie silent on the street

Where each outline is still-life like a blue and white postcard

The lays that lush and languid fell in corridors plush green

As sparked imagination strummed the sun-sweet afternoons

Are b-r-r-r-ittle, b-r-r-r-usque and b-r-r-r-umal; minuets steel-tongued and keen

Its dancers bundled thick against astringent, surly tunes

That bivouac once laden with petal-perfume of flow’rs

Is sparse; a barren thoroughfare save for the gale that broods

Before it breaks the vault that holds a sea of sequin stars

They tumble to the outstretched arms of hill, hollow and woods

…and on the slope that holds our hope of daisy-dappled joys

Or picnics on the quilt that sleeps in closet-quietness

The air is drenched with shrieks as sleds spill jolly girls and boys

Where winter is a wonderland of snow-white happiness

© Janet Martin