Season of Ice
It is getting dark earlier.
Already, the icy fingers of frost
Have crept across car windows
Leaving their white haze at dawn.
The sun is no farther away,
It’s just low in the southern sky.
Soon, the winds will howl
And the fire will burn low at night.
Snow will come and flood the drive.
It’s not that I hate Winter,
Some of my fondest memories
Are from this season.
I like bundling up in warm coats
That keep out the chill.
It’s the ice that gets me.
Frozen water kills.
Snow is pale and dead.
Freezing rain brings down wires.
It’s good to be able to walk outside,
But that’s impossible when the wind
Is freeze-drying your lungs.
Clouds block out the sky.
A day as bland and dreary
As a white coat.
There’s little good to be found
When it’s too cold to survive
Without a house and warm fire.
I will escape this year into books.
Electric lights will be my sun.
I will live vicariously until
The summer heat returns.
