Come Winter


Third tee on the North Hatley golf course after the ice storm 2013

Spring, summer, and fall
come and go:
birth, life and surrender
like preludes to your eternity,
colourful crazy quilts
to your thick white blankets,
seasonal experiments
before you settle in.

Firewood stacked
three cords deep
awaits your arrival.
Like the seasons before you,
it will go up in smoke
leaving feather-like ash
to mark its passing.

You may come sooner or later:
storms before Thanksgiving
herald your eagerness one year,
green grass at Christmas
regrets your tardiness the next.
But your timing
is inevitable
if not impeccable.

I love your tempestuous nature:
soft, fluffy and silent,
blustery, raging, and vengeful,
crisp, cold, and clear.
Each dimension in its turn
or out of it
in a random roll
of weathered dice.

I will drape you
around me winter,
like a down duvet
on sub-zero nights.
Take my hand,
kiss my frosty cheek,
lead me into your bitter cold.

Come to me winter
with your frozen fingers
and icy intent.
Snow me under
quietly or subdue me
with a savage blow.
Make me yours winter
before spring once again
beckons me to be reborn.

Susan Macaulay created and curates SheQuotesMy Alzheimer’s Story,  Amazing Women, and Succeed With Susan. She is a feminist, global citizen, lifelong learner and the author of Everyday Feminine Wisdom and soon-to-be-published “the dogs’ breakfast.”

4 Responses to “Come Winter”

  1. Chris says:

    SoO beautiful and meaningful…

  2. Renee says:

    Just beautiful!