WINTER

It is winter.
I have made it winter,
Almost on purpose.
It must be winter
For now.
For a while.
Until spring wins,
Until spring can win or dream of winning.
Winter needs me.
To embrace the wind,
To hold its cold—
To understand spring
But not to pine for it,
In case spring doesn't come
Or I find it to be winter with flowers.
Spring makes it hard
To trim the buds—
And winter harder still,
To prune spring
For plans of summer.

© 2006: nonymous, ink.
a ryan george company