A winter shade of wheat
Bobbles from wind’s heavy breath.
Roots from acorns buried
Push and ply their ways
In rich, cold, and busy soil.
There is little comfort outside;
One must go within for solace.
Cats find the registers and radiators,
Curling up in dry, forced heat.
Our noses are drier
Yet our skin is cracked and parched.
Time for a book and a cup of relief,
Or a movie where the world explodes.
We seek shelter near fireplaces
And in groups of fellow languished souls,
Bundled in layers of sweat and freeze.
Kindness turns to frost,
And generosity halts at the spigot.
We must extend ourselves even if contracting
Seems to feel like a better option.
The grain flutters as snowflakes,
Brown butterflies in a whitened field.
We must celebrate even when things perish,
Because the globe will spin and
It will be all over again soon.
Holding our scarves and necks straight,
We stride through the pummeling cold
To reach our next destination;
Warmth and gratitude
Waits to receive us at the end.
© 2017 Valerie Hathaway