Last Wednesday I watched the first snowflakes fly
as I stood on a porch smoking yet another cigarette.
As each tiny, intricate crystal hit the ground and met its melty fate
I remember sending up a silent plea that this winter wouldn't bury me just like the last.
I stand braced for the cold,
holding my breath with the hope that
once I let it out there will be more to follow.
This season banks snow right up against the main doors leading to the warm parts of my heart.
All I can hope for is sufficient energy to shovel myself out from under
the crushing weight of the dark days
and snow laden road ways.
watching the winter arrive reminds me that I have a
long,
cold,
grueling
battle against myself coming right this way.
A part of me begs myself to hibernate...
to just sleep late into spring.
Instead I must prepare myself,
eyes wide,
Because trying to stop my winter is like
trying to hold back the tide.