“Winter Sonnet” by Sharon Rauenzahn
I set my calendar to match your moods:
Cold times come to you more days each year
Than all our neighbors know. Though sitting here
Away from you, I feel your winter’s chill:
Despite the springtime air, some storm occludes
Your voice. In that despair, no green can thrive;
Frail seedlings planted here may not survive.
Despite my care, an early frost can kill.
But every winter passes, and the spring
Must visit soon, whose sweet renewing rains
Will melt your ice-bound heart, refresh the soil,
Make earth again grow eager for our toil.
With thaw, I soon forget the winter’s pain:
And love, this while, feels warm, a summer thing.
May 13, 1993