I am the tilt of Earth,
as we are the winters that are cradled.
I am the freezing winds,
as we are the muscles that shiver us into a harminous warmth.
I am the geese migrating,
as we are those moved by their yoked formations.
I am the witch hazel,
as we are those cold pollinating wanderers seeking refuge.
I am the blanketing snow,
as we are the terrain of earth graciously being put to rest.
I am the gushing snowmelt,
as we are pampered in extra hydration.
I am the disturbing avalanche,
as we are the land mosaicked in restoration.
I am the tenacious overwintering insects,
as we are plants greeted in generous pollination.
I am the hibernating creatures,
as we are those cells unwinding into deep rest.
I am those seasonal times,
as we emboson circlar life.
Unknowingly to the promise of Spring,
in that primaveral corridor,
Winter silently sings our lives back into renewal.
I lament leaving the arms of this winter,
as we are embraced in soft, luminous water,
so brightened by that golden, milky honeydew.
Our sun so mooning in those reflective faces.
This snow a gift of care
whisking us to parity.
There is an ice to my pain
with such chilling ardor,
though balanced with this pain,
laying dormant,
is my love for a true, pulsing reunion
as I await a winter apricity.