Earth

stripped down now,
she adorns herself with winter
an invisible layer exposed by absence
a rough coat of ragged bark
and spindled sticks
with a scarf of last summer’s decay

little birds hop at her shoulders
while squirrels dig at her feet
the hoard of autumn now silent
the revelry of abundance
put away but also strewn about

everything suggests the whiff of ice
everything harbors the promise of growth
and she is asleep but wakeful
paused and still, waiting but wandering,
a bedhead unbrushed, a bright yawn,
a beautiful mess

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I am not a fan of being cold, but I love the quiet, bare beauty of winter all the same! Living in a place that has a short, mild one, I welcome the chance to enjoy the season while it lasts. (I will admit I did not feel that way when I lived in New York.)

Thank you for reading!