Winter

I awoke to find that Jack Frost had paid a visit to my bedroom windows for the very first time this Winter. If only I had seen him at work I would have thanked him for decorating my otherwise plain view to the outside world. How amazing he is, working under cover of Night creating countless of the most delicate ferns, interwoven, unfolding in two magical dimensions. They are the most crystalline lace through which I can now survey the sparkling hoar frost on the crusty snow out there covering everything in sight. I awoke to see a black-masked cardinal punctuating the white-draped forest with its brilliant red and pointed crest hopping from branch to barest branch. They love the cold, these whistling red greeters of the morning, these messengers connecting Earth with all Spiritual realms, feathered angels ushered in on North Winds. I, too, love the cold for it makes me realize so many things, as it clarifies and purifies and purges all souls as well as the soulless with frigid acumen. I awoke to see ice on the pond, Winter's pier glass, a frozen mirror hemming in the sad brown cattails in a cold, opaque yet delicate parquet of Nature. The arbors in the garden stand like hunched-over skeletons almost afraid to be seen without their green Summer raiment. The vines about the arbors hold tight to their arched ramparts, clinging bravely in spite of the cold knowing that the pale Winter sun will be gentle with them. I awoke to hear a rap on the door. "Breakfast is ready," came a voice from within and without, smelling the aromas of coffee and toast. The cold of the old pine floorboards made them creak even more, revealing my whereabouts from room to room like a ghost on its haunt. And the staircase seemed more steeper than before, as I descended to the kitchen where warmth and conversation around a hot cup would be found. I awoke to find that Winter is our friend, our ally in Time, a defender, a hoarder, a keeper of all things 'til Spring. The chill of Wintertide makes all else more cozy like sweaters and blankets and fireside evenings until the embers and their memory no longer remain. I realize now more than ever before how Winter has changed me forever more, and made me realize not too soon nor too late, what it means to see Winter waiting at Autumn's gray gate. copyright © 2019 Gregory Firlotte