A Harsh Climate

The beginning of December, Earth is wearing ermine.
Soon this gentle chill will be swallowed by a wind
whose whistle has turned to a roar.
Winter insists on the cynical.

This part of the planet is held prisoner, manacled
by ice.  What alchemy would brutalize the lace
that dusted bareness to beauty?  Only a bone crunching
cold without mercy.

The snowflake that danced so delicately mid air
has thudded to earth.  The old paths are jagged
and aloof, but the sky is still blue;
the stars still shine at night.

Secluded by drifts of Winter entering, held captive
by the pallid vastness, memory conjures a dream.
The climate doesn’t seem quite as harsh
with your voice so unexpectedly close.


4 thoughts on “A Harsh Climate

  1. Wayne Mizerak (walkingindarkness)

    Hi Sarah,

    It is nice to read your words. It has been a while.

    I especially like the ending:

    “The climate doesn’t seem quite as harsh
    with your voice so unexpectedly close.”

    They are a good descriptor of your words through the
    years, your words of encouragement and appreciation
    to so many people for so many years. Words aptly written
    in this poem and in your too-many-to-count clicks of reply
    on the computer.

    Enjoyed. Wayne

  2. Wayne!!!

    It is so good to see you here!!

    What nice things you say. They are very much appreciated.
    It is a joy to read your work at The Pub, too.

    Thank you many times over!!


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