Winter has decorum
unlike his sister Spring,
he is slow and ponderous
but she's a giddy thing

There is no schism,
no gulf between the winter, fall, and spring
there is a reason for every season,
each takes the best
then adds to what the others bring

We knit idyllic hopeful schemes
and fashion them as garments made from dreams

We sipped our fill from this years beer
until at last we came to winters snowy dregs
with whetted lips and foam still fresh upon the tongue
knowing that in time spring’s ale will surely come,
for now we mourn the empty ailing year
what once was fine and foaming full is done

Today I will hang my winter curtains
thick and soft as a cat's full belly,
December throw your gauntlet
full blast the rain, the wind can roar
they will not step inside my door,
for every sound becomes a purr
when I have donned my seasonal fur

To be a poet
is not to burn the paper with your words
but to be heard,
when ink and page and pen are embers
it is the beauty one remembers

Oh, sea of tranquility,
we came, but we could not swim,
so we claimed you with a flag
and put a towel down for the race,
then we left our grubby footprints
across your perfect face