Winter

In winter when gloom and dark abound,
We lay our heads upon our beds with cold and dread all about.

But at the start of dawn's too bright light
some hope seeps in our life.
For while we slept the dark black clouds emptied their feigned despair
blowing down a serene blanket white.

Untouched our world feels like a comforter, deceptively warm.
The earth is covered with no escape.
But there is no fear nor claustrophobic dread.
Instead the shining moon drifts above our sleeping heads.

A  continuing snowfall scatters the reflected light.
Falling flakes fill the air with a brilliant array of heavenly hope.
Hope that comes from this blanket so fair.
The world now brimming in brilliant white.

We gather our boots our scarves and our coats.
We know the cold air that awaits.
Our flesh is to weak to withstand the harsh blast
of deep winter's icy, sharp flair.

We take a step to just explore.
We are vulnerable.
We feel the cold.
We are small.  

We groan, we moan,
 but it's morning now
so we have to get up and go.

We grab a long shovel and look at the chore that now we must do.
There is shoveling scraping and more.

We think we know what lies beneath but we are never really sure.
Below our feet the crunches and crackles cry.
They are warnings hiding and laying low.

As the blade cuts the snow it opens the wound
 the earth needs some time to heal.
It gave us so much in autumn's harvest
It just needs a few months to unwind.

Us?
We run.
We have too much to do.
We whirl and twirl to finish the tasks for we think that without them we're naught.

We carefully carve out a path to take us from home into work.
When we drive we slow down as the crazies speed past
when we walk we might just slip and slide.
Till we find the next path that's been carved just for us
Until at our jobs we arrive.

But waiting at home is the barely scarred snow.
It lies, oh so silent and still.
No one at home to see the quieted landscape.
Like a negative prematurely exposed.

Majestic mountains graced and 'capped.
A bird steals a bug from a tree.
The woods are all clothed and dressed up for the scene.
Awaiting for someone to see.

At the end of the day we return to our home and finally decide to have fun.
I make a small ball with a grab and two packs and get myself ready to throw.
Now,  two more come my way.  

Stop!
Let's pack and roll the base.
The body next you will see.  And then we will round out the head.
The youngest runs in to get the eyes and nose
A new guard for our home.

Now off to sleep we start to drift.
Today was not a dream.
Today was winter's living within a winter scene.