Now, at the start of spring
Winter sends us one last blast
of cold. Like a dying
patient who rallies
just before he
finally fails,
finally falls
into whatever comes next
Though no one seems to mind
when Winter dies
Winter has one of those,
“it’s a blessing”
deaths,
though, when people say it
about a loved one
(theirs or mine)
I want to scream
or give them a slap
or both,
no matter the circumstances of the death
But the death of
Winter is
another matter.
After all,
we know that
Winter
will always
find her way back.