early evenings

the darkness comes early

lasts longer than light

the cold's in the bones

there's no will to fight

the waiting seems endless

with false hopes and turns

when finally you grasp it

it no longer burns

'tween shadow and starlight

you can't find your breath

the glow of the sunrise

like waking from death

the sunshine breaks through

the golden leaves shine

for a moment you're lost

for a moment you're mine

but mostly the clouds

grey and heavy with rain

pour lead in your soul

sound an endless refrain

is the thing that you long

worth the price that you pay

can you live with the cost

at the end of the day

when the ache overwhelms

and you've nowhere to go

i'm holding out hope

where the rain turns to snow

so blow on that flame

when the night is too long

wrap your love with a bow

i'll come to your song

an icy walk

the treads on my boots grip the ungrippable

like studs on snow tires they slice through

the frozen matter on the ground no match

crunch

i'm moving faster than i expected with all

the sleet cannot stay my feet in these boots

i'm bounding through drifts and slushy mess

splash

the persistent freezing rain begins to coat 

my coat stiffens in the arctic temperatures

but inside i'm warm and dry impervious

crackle

in time i will become an ice sculpture

the ornament of a path less traveled

all to the unrelenting patter of icicles

chink

winter weather advisory

it's still not snowing. for days the forecast fanfare foretold 

snowflakes, winter storm warnings abounding, and staring 

out the window past the current negative temps and tales of 

snow for the next 6 hours the green grass and dismal freezing 

rain belie the snowflake icon. i can't sit still. i check the 

window. i check the app. the continual disagreement echoed 

by the tumultuous wind keeps me restless. i'm pacing. i'm 

looking for signs of something new, something overdue, 

but all i see is complacent normalcy. an unusual icicle here 

and there but otherwise a normal february landscape. this 

does not fit. the arctic air mixed with the sub-zero temps 

combined with clouds producing precipitation all point to 

white puffy flakes. i'm ready for winter to be over but i'm 

also ready to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of a frosted landscape. 

all the normal is upside down and i'm still adjusting. the wind 

fretfully howls outside my window, but not to decorate trees 

with snow ornaments. what if everything i used to distract me 

is no longer at hand? He makes everything beautiful in His 

own time...can i wait for that? is it snowing yet? will it ever?