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.
