Unseasonable - Dec 6 2024

 

Unseasonable

Dec 6 2024

It’s coming down as rain,

soaking into the snow

and thickening the air

with a cold shiver of mist

that turns everything grey.

I miss winter.

I resent

this in-between state

of uncertain waiting

and neither/nor.

At least an ice storm

would stir the blood

be worthy of weathering,

an old-fashioned blizzard

barrel in

with a clean sweep

of fresh arctic air.

Or do we remember wrong?

Are we nostalgic

for what never was?

How many days

were actually blue sky and powder snow,

that dry cold

you hardly feel?

And how many

as miserable as this;

a low pressure trough

that stalls in place,

the midwinter thaw

there’s no wishing away?

Wet snow

too heavy to shovel,

a damp cold

that cuts to the bone.

And taking refuge inside

through the long winter night

I’m come to be grateful for,

the shades drawn

and fire stoked.

Snuggling together

warm as toast.