Winter (Seasons, Personified)

It’s mid-October
And I feel the wind turn cold.
You are coming south again soon,
With your cold fingers and soft eyes.
The color seeps from the world, and I know it’s your doing.
I think you hate it, though, because you always waver;

Mid-December, and guilt consumes you 
in the form of deafening rain
Pattering on my roof. 

(You always come back, anyway, 
Resigned to your duty of silence)

Later, I stand in the powdered snow you have gifted our ruined earth
And I think I see your shattered form in the way the low clouds gather
A shadow with blue-tinged lips and 
pure white eyes.

You are lonely, maybe – 
The animals hide from you
And the plants wither in your wake. 
Your only company are skeletons of great white birch trees
And the bright red cardinal
Who refuses to take your silence for an answer. 

At the same time, I think you have grown used to the quiet
Because on some days in crisp-cold January 
I see you in the way the light 
refracts on the ice-covered trees as you
bask in the dying sunlight,
Embracing tranquility and enjoying the unbroken calm.
You are not happy, I don’t think, not in the way we define it

(you know it won’t last forever)

But you’ve made the best of where you are
And for now you are content to live
In the present, in

Simplicity. 

But I see you in the night, as well
You always beckon her closer,
(Twin-souls) 
never one without the other.
I see her in you and I see you in her
Born of darkness,

(some say death, I am not quite sure)

While she is closer to constant 
You teach her how to make a name for herself,
Pull her shadows closer, 
Until they weave into the cape I see draped over your shoulders (never far away).

(Even later, I look out the window in early February, and I think that while you have come to full awareness of your inescapable role in the world, you cannot escape the turmoil that comes with it. Sometimes, your torment solidifies into clouds and you unleash the storms that plague you – wind and snow and ice, a blur that matches your agitation. 
The mistake is that they call you angry, but the more I look I think you are just 
Sad, or maybe 
Sorrowful
Grieving the life that will come
But you will not be a part of. Because though you love your cold and quiet 
You cannot help but wish 
For the 
Happiness
That comes with true life.)

Late March, and in the early morning fog, I see your silhouette hug a youthful figure with a flower behind her ear.
You are sad to leave, 
But not sad that the world will be without you 

(you know your time has come to an end)

Because Winter
Even the Winter that stings my cheeks with icy fingers, the Winter that covers my hair with snowflakes and makes my ears pop from cold, the one whose dark, dark, darkness is draining in a way only it can be, 

The one who is real and true, everything and nothing, the one whose storms sings bittersweet ballads to the starless sky

Craves the gentle embrace of hope 

that comes with Spring.


Inspired by @elise.writer's "January silence (weather personified)". thank you for being a friend in this wonderful website <3