The grey cold
lingers in the bitter air
and snow falls like ghosts
declaring here will be a sufficient place to haunt.

I wake up
A time to seek and an time to lose
not to the birds
a time to mourn and a time to dance
or the sun shining through the blinds,
a time to keep silent and a time to speak
but to banshee sobs
a time to weep and a time to laugh
and voices that were once intertwined.
a time to love and a time to hate

I stare
out the window
and onto the unrelenting days
of December Timing-
a time to keep and a time to cast away;
a time to tear and a time to sew.

For everything, there is this season.
For every matter under the sun, there is this time.

I want to stretch my broken wings
a time to die
and fly toward the hidden, hopeful
light of day that is masked behind
the gray cold.

*a time to be born