Winter’s Storming

I am in spring.

You are in winter.

I sow my seeds

As you sow splinters.

I stand below,

Awe in your grandeur; 

Your eyes downcast

Perceive a voyeur.

The heavy snow

Cakes on your shoulders,

A weighted life

Makes you look older.

This night is long

But shortening soon,

Inhale deeply

Into every bloom

Of the Spirit

In the wintry wind,

That wakes you

From hibernation;

Hear her whisper

In the quiet dark,

For with it comes

A quickening spark;

To remind you

Of your leaves ablaze,

Last season when

You finessed your rage.

There will, again

Be a gathering,

After summer’s 

Sanguine smiling.

Now take my hand,

And feel it warming

The tired bones

From winter’s storming.