Blossoms of Color

Blossoms of color popping on cheeks
Mittens and gloves like missiles
Coats loved and cherished in the mornings
Scarves become weapons or ties
of friendship binding smiles
energy finding a new high in cold air
brisk biting chills become refreshing
while games of running and dodging
clamber up the stairs and around
the bend of the buildings and streets
finding nothing new but everything fresh
snow not yet thick, lets the ground hold feet
better than in the summer
and now the games can be run farther
the cold air fills and refills the lungs
giggling follows on chill breezes and the
lamps of the morning lights brighten
the day as it dawns inside and out
and eyes start to open, though bodies
are already in motion and moving
things are seen, but not felt, or felt but not seen
then the cold morning air reminds of
work to do, friends to meet, hands to hold
and hugs to embrace
Winter is coming on now, like the raven’s flight
punctuated by moments or bursts of sound and fury
of winds and flakes, then back to the quiet calm
of a cold morning by the fire, or heater
waiting for the sun to join, and warm the air
the rooms and the hallways
still waiting from the night
slumbering in their quiet darkness
we walk them before they are awake
We find them as the sun does,
we warm them more than the sun
with smiles, laughs, running games
and other beauties that are always hibernating
within us each chilled morning
and we wake them, to find friends
and family and work and life,
and we wake those things too
until the winter goes again,
but now we hold onto the warmth we have,
and we hold onto the warmth we give.


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