When winter is no longer winter
when birds no longer are frozen
but come out to find out where
they lived last year and the year
before I will air out my convictions
and then come alive again.
The malcontents grumble and stay
away from windows and cracks
where whistles the worst of winter
the stiff and hard-strapped hands
around a heated cup say they
needed nothing for a while.
My wolf adapts and my bear
is drunk and dozed by christmas
my rabbit is furred to survive
and my evergreen parts are sat
down by the fire with pencil
and paper filling up days.
I cannot read in winter words
do not resonate but walking
knows its way although hidden
couch I cannot distinguish
from bed nor moment from
what life amounts to.
When split are desire and present
when noon is no longer bitter
when pink and gold creep round
the clouds that have edges now
of ice and regret all may be
re-read and come alive again.
The season in which the season
of still increasing crusts of crystal
is no longer a human tendency
in that warming up week of weeks
I might think of pulling out wincing
fingers from lined pockets.