Every year a poem appears to hint of my love for winter
… or lack thereof.
This year’s goes something like this…
Pilot flame lit, shivering
I loathe the click and hiss
of the metal box in the corner
for it calls farewell to summerFall days grow dimmer, shorter
skirts lengthen to pants
coats cover soft shoulders
ankles disappear into bootsSmiles and skin flee inward
huddle indoors for the winter
Only smokers left outside,
cussing, indifferent to the chillSummer sprouted love, grew
then withered in autumn shadow
died in winter ice, leaving
no seed to greet the springThe season of intimacy wanes
while others carefully cultivate
their love, I too wander indoors
to escape the chill, aloneExcept for my kittens, who purr
happy for the warmth of my lap
and their love of that metal box that
clicks and hisses in the corner