the gently sun peeks through
the long clouds stretching out
across the horizon
and up into the morning sky

a parade of silhouetted leafless trees
march up and down the hillside

the earth spinning in a perfect
and endless pirouette

the seasons always on the move
coming and going
gone and here again

nearby the moon practicing
her crescent smile
the stars applying
their shimmer and shine
the night dying its blanket
in a new wash of pitch black
the shortest day of the year racing by
collecting the last
of what it can find for warmth

and somewhere off in the wings
winter is shaking the last
of autumns dusk from her coat
waiting for the curtains to close
the stage to be reset
the lights to dim

waiting for the moon to walk out
on her tightrope
far above the crowd below
to see her perfect practiced
crescent smile light the stage

winter enters on the back
of the great north wind
a wind that in a certain light
at a certain angle
sometimes looks like
a great white wolf
with mischievous eyes

winters footsteps litter the stage with snow
her skin reflecting cool blues
and cold lights
somehow offers a special warmth
the warmth of

sleeping children dreaming
of snowmen and sleigh rides
little mice finding feasts
in what we would call crumbs
far away fathers remembering
quite nights and home fires
expectant mothers waiting impatiently
for cozy blankets and bedtime stories
for the long and lonely grief
to remember what once was
and to feel that joy again
and to smile in knowing
that no one is truly ever gone

and as suddenly as it began
the night though long
seems too short

the moon tired but still smiling
trades places with the sun

and the clouds stretch out
to cover the long horizon

and winter marches
with the leafless trees
up and down the hillside

waiting with the trees
for their leaves to bloom
and her time to pass
and go again