Still, Winter Sings
a love letter to the enduring cold
March marks the equinox, where spring is said to enter and place
an end to the frosted overtones of Winter’s culling breaths.
in this corner of the world her voice lives on louder and longer,
stretching and howling at the faintest mention of muscari or crocus.
it's almost amusing, this timing of rampages.
i watch as the Northern hemisphere largely unfurls in emergence,
while shivering to the tempo beating, still, below zero.
there are no stakes ready for claiming in the war between seasons.
i have found little to say in the nature of it all,
save that i am without quarrel in the lingering.
Wintering is not the signature of death i have long perceived her to be,
but a signpost of deep slumber.
not everything rises early.
and everything needs rest.
let me tuck under covers and press into corners of ice-kissed windows, as i learn to recognize and savour the light in the dark.
i swear it dances brighter between the stars.
the need for mittens and space heaters continues on the prairies as we transition from midwinter spring into thaw. it will be a while before green is visible and i wanted to write a small gratitude to continued wintering this week.
lately i've been writing to Yiruma.
here's a steadfast favourite from my playlist, aptly titled Joy.
there are sweet bonuses to this part of the world, including spectacular viewing of the aurora year-round. let me share this incredible Canadian photographer’s lens as he captures some brilliant tones.
Just beautiful. While we are quite abloom with spring here, some mornings’ lingering frosts feel like promises that the gifts of winter were ultimately for good, even if dark, at times — and will return again.