Old Man Winter
Mar 2 2009


“Old Man Winter”, they say,
in his snow-white beard
stooped and stiff.

And then spring comes in
like a beautiful girl,
in the flower of youth
about to blossom.

When she will turn into summer;
a woman who is sure of herself,
as ripe and fecund
as a sultry August.

While fall is a boy on the cusp,
who looks back at the stuff of youth,
and looks ahead
unsure of the challenge to come.

He isn’t old to begin with,
but the dark, the cold
wear him down.
Winter ages you
and it’s hard on the old,
who count down to spring
remembering what it was to be young.
So old man winter waits for the thaw —
the sound of rushing water,
the warm dry earth.