A Kind of Winter
A Kind of Winter
Never to see you turn and smile
or smell your rain-wet hair
or feel your hand or hear your voice
or look into your heart-full eyes
or hold you when you cry
'til Sun and laughter come again
is a kind of Winter,
as now when city, meadow, river field
are numb with cold and lashed by rain
that bends us in rebuke
of our too prodigal Spring.
But Sun and Spring will come again
painting trees and flowers, grass and sky
green yellow red and blue
and water freed from snow will dance
seaward through the clover fields
past celebrating birds to sunlit shore
where my wildly beating heart
searching horizons of blue sky
someday may see your homeward sail
sparkling whitely at farthest edge
of the infinite blue-green, dancing sea.
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