Winter Comes: a poem on the Silvered Season

Winter comes, sharp-faced and bony-fingered
clawing an icy cover across a land
barren in hibernation;

while we tight-lipped, close-buttoned
hatted, scarved, and gloved
speak muffled mists
mingling silvered breath with the thickening air,

while we pick our way on treacherous paths
or stride out, slicing the frosty silence,
when the low slung sun blinds south bound drivers
and passengers turn their faces into its warming rays;

quietly this frozen earth turns
towards its lengthening days
the orange sun colours clouds deep coral
and on the horizon – like a distant fire – glows
through the black tracery of trees
and a lone crow pierces the crisp air of the dying sky –
so Winter comes.

Published by Marilyn

Diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder after fifty years in the mental health system I decided to share my experiences and consider the impact my health has had on my well-being. Being creative is the mainstay of my life and it's how I express my deepest emotions. Photography, writing, and design challenge me and help keep me rooted in the present.

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