Winter would stay forever if it could.
It's worked hard to establish itself,
building layers upon layers of ice and snow,
determined to become a permanent part of our landscape.
It's understandable then,
to see the long, sharp, icy tears of sadness
when warm winds blow in
and it must relinquish its grip.
Rings of memory,
frozen in time,
wait anxiously to be released
to rejoin the story of the seasons.
Stripped of Winter's decorations,
the forests are left dark and empty,
save for the icicles
that twinkle like haunted chandeliers,
a memory of happier times.
The ground swells with unfamiliar waters;
milky-grey and ice-cold,
not ready yet for life to begin.
Ice touches gold.
Winter and Autumn, old friends,
reunite for a brief moment.
Together they transform bare fields
into treasure-chests brimming with jewels.
In the same way Winter arrived,
it leaves us breathless, sparkling
with a beauty we won't forget.
And then, with one swoop of a wand
the seasons change.