Winter by Brooke Fox

When Winter visits,

in encompassing beauty,

of white adorned clothing,

she plays a role for which we hanker,

of warmth and intrepid buoyancy.

Eyes the hue of blue-dipped crystals,

skin like a river of pearl,

these characteristics extend their colors,

from sky to snow-banked landscape.

Magnificent the seed she buries,

with a silence loud and captivating,

into rays of class and assured confidence,

working to the tune of subtlety. 

Though Winter shows an epic sight,

and in day she o’erpowers sundry,

in night she mystery portrays-

an awe-evoking, sleeping, austere queen.

Set aside her inspiration,

Winter’s heart speaks golden,

for yon a boy ragged and dirty,

sits playing a song of joyful elation.

Beside the Maker walks Icy-Martyr,

expert in changing tears into laughter,

engaged as children lounge by the fire,

touched by the aura of mystical tremor.

When Winter visits,

her spirit on magic hangs,

when she leaves,

the hanger goes with her.

For woe be the day when we lose our excitement-

without an audience, Winter is only a season.

~ Dedicated to my aunt, Saundra Kay Sitto