Winter's Breath

A poem on the cycle of seasons and necessity of death

Photo by Ankhesenamun on Unsplash

A winter’s breath is blown amidst
and flower, field, and fruit withdraw
the vigor of a summer’s kiss —
now met and stilled by season’s law

An icy frost lays low the green
as colors slip to muted greys,
a fated death to ample spring
and burial to harvest’s way

But do not deem that all is lost —
for dormant lies the future prize,
for while the leaf pays Heaven’s cost
the roots prepare to bear new life 

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