by jimowensjr

Wrestling against the wind,

like dry souls clinging to life,

sweetgums and dry leaves

rustle in the barren branches;


Rooftops dusted with winter,

the vapors of my breath

appear, then vanish

in the frigid morn’;


Tender fingers,

pink and aching,

the tip of my nose

pleading for my wool scarf;


A wandering pup

plodding across the brown Bermuda

he stops and sniffs,

perhaps searching for spring;


My body longing

for warm Gulf waters

emerald shorelines

and toes in the sand;


The cold quickens me,

a reminder that life,

like the seasons

will come and go;


Memories of snow,

of sleds and steaming hot chocolate,

of a childhood

with little worry or fear;


The breeze pauses,

Mother Nature catching her breath,

she watches me,

wondering if I will relent;


A child—a boy?

Wrapped in wool and fleece.

His boots patting over the pavement.

Or is it a girl?



A crystal sky,

clear and clean and fresh,

envelopes me,

washing me with peace.