Of winters jealous under bridges
lost in white powder above bars
I’ve not a favourite, each so endless
but this year I almost –
resurrected myself, in the frost
wreck me endlessly, tactlessly
this stretch of winter grey ahead
this year not so terrible, not quite dead
and yet –
California does not wait at the end
Winter or the body, soul, or environment is definitely not my favorite, either. Very nicely stated.
I agree, Marianne has written a great poem. Not sure if you have also commented on Marianne’s blog? Best wishes. Kevin