The Ghosts of Winter
It is still cold!
The ghosts of winter still racing, still bold.
I hear them through the walls
Rushing, charging, swirling about.
The trees bow and spread
doing the best they can to keep heads down
Winter is still here, still wants to stay
but as spring creeps up the valleys
to the hills and mountains to attack –
the Ghosts of Winter keep fighting back,
Even though they are dead, dying
Relentless, the spirits keep trying
They have won tonight,
the trees remain bowed under
the icy winds terrible might,
but soon enough Spring
will win the high ground
with the warmth of the sun.
It will be as if winter’s battle
had never been won.
I tire of Winter’s bite,
but am powerless in the turning of the earth,
the length of the light.
As I hope for spring,
I accept the fate
That of warm spring and summer
I will have to wait.
Rushing, charging, swirling about
The ghosts of winter hold on tight
squeezing the last breath of cold, to shout:
“I am still here! I will not die!”
across the night
Kit Latham 4/5/2014