Winter’s Last Whispers

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As bright green spring 

pushes through your barren branches, 

I feel the urgency to say 

thank you.     

Winter. 

Your quiet woods, your rolling fern free creek banks, 

your sky dancing bark sculptures laid bare, 

the bones of you. 

Day and night invisible intricate roots in earthworm filled dirt, 

silently pumping magic to those newborn 

boisterous cells ready to burst through cold and wood. 

yet you patiently say: 

Wait. Stay a while, look deeper. Your debut is soon:

big, beautiful and flamboyant. 

But for now…

breathe in crisp air, 

feel your bones settle into bare dirt, 

let your membranes flood with deep nourishment of our mother, 

Soon my last whispers will cycle on,  

in this space between, 

soak me in like butter. 

Love, 

Winter