Crisp cold air moves in slowly expectedly.
How nice it can feel after long hot haze filled days of summer.
Gradually the chill embraces all.
And all succumbs to mother winters icy graces.
Trees lay dormant.
Water rests in a shiny crystal state.
And the ground sleeps under its insulating blanket.
Not all rests during these grey times.
So much more grows and thrives then the darkened cold ground reveals.
But like the ground it must remain covered insulated from all around it.
For if it is seen it shall not survive the blustery Gaze that it will be subjected to.
so it sits waits... but growing.
An enigma in a world full of certainties
It lies unmoving through many months of the grey and grows stronger and larger
with each blast of icy cold.
Forever longing for the thaw.
Yet knowing it may never arrive.
As the days grow longer it waits, waits for the summer perhaps then it can bloom.
Taking comfort in the fact.
That although the release into the sun would be oh so freeing.
That the cold grey is its mother and here it can stay forever.
Hidden continuing to grow never to be harmed isolated,
OH winter longing's