Winter
I am not ready for your dragging days
You make them so short. At my house,
you never know whether to be sleet or snow.
If you must come, please bring big snowflakes
that sift over limp grass and then cardinals
will ornament the trees. You ice the deck that the dog
and I have to traverse. Shrubs succumb to your weight,
never regaining strength to stand erect again.
And your frost freezes to the windshield like glue.
Do send deep blue skies with sun sparkling off iced
tree limbs to let me know that warmer days are ahead.
Don’t tease us with the smell of spring only to slam
the door shut with a storm. Most importantly,
leave as quietly as you came.
Green Hills Literary Lantern 2021
