Farewell to Winter

Farewell to Winter


Let it be known that my love and appreciation for you are true.  All which you have given has been accepted with an open and thankful heart.


Though I may have seemed a bit unprepared for your arrival, I was thrilled by the beauty and grace of your generous greeting.  Dressing up my withered world in a gown of sparkling white, kissing my cheek with pure and fresh breath, speaking to me in hush and loving whispers, you beckoned me to join the others ‘round a glowing hearth as you settled among us, your presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.  With you at our side, we bonded in love and fellowship to recognize and give thanks for all that is, and all that has been.  Following your lead, we’ve dressed in our finest and made merry, given generously to one-another, remembered days of yore and toasted the dawning of a new beginning.   


When the party ended, and it was time to buckle down once again, your grip upon my world grew stronger.  Your chill proved to be a force to be recognized respected– not merely a lack of warmth.  Still, you gave generously, and steadily.  Your expression measured in inches and accumulated in feet, falling, blowing, shrinking, hardening, falling again, and drifting in long smooth sensuous curves.  Sprawling with greed and confidence across this vast northern landscape; holding the waters still, shiny and slick; shading us from the pale light of day and casting long silent shadows of night; keeping us under cover for weeks at a time and then yanking it back in sudden frosty swoops to reveal the brilliance of your handiwork; your presence consistently draws attention to itself.  All the while, your ancient beauty, your rich and deeply meaningful nature has not been lost on me.


Yet, understand please, that there comes a time when I weary of your presence.  It is in my nature as a mortal to demand movement and color in order to live.  The long frozen stillness of you does eventually become a burden, and in the latter weeks when your darkness seems unrelenting, I am forced to turn inward to cope.  It is then, in the long drawn-out nights filled with vivid dreaming, and in the pale afternoons to follow on which the mind drifts with the passing clouds, it is then that I have discovered another of your bounty of gifts: the realization that love, wonder and beauty lie within me as well as without me.  View not my impatience with you as a sign of ingratitude; recognize, rather, that I am still but a child learning as I grow.


So on the day when spring’s sweet scent seduces me, understand that my desire for her is not a sign of my scorn for you.  I sense your jealousy as you gather up your fine gown and pack up your diamonds in preparation for your eventual departure.  Cast here and there are dingy scraps left lying in heaps like lipstick prints on crushed out butts in a dusty tray.  In deep hidden ravines, there are still lovely blankets of white which you are yet to retrieve.  I expect in days to come you may seem wrathful, and show us with great pomp that you still have your power, that you are not yet fully departed.  Though you seem to have made a mess of the place, your gifts have seeped deeply into the earth to assist in our nourishment long after you have taken leave of us.  Know too, that the love you have taught us will make us love our next guest that much more deeply.


In short, know that you are loved equally as the others – no less and no greater.  Though your final departure will be waved away with joyful fanfare, your return will once again bring equal joy.  That day is yet far off, and my mind and heart are not prepared to look toward it considering the day that is approaching.  One truth holds fast throughout: to everything there is a season, and each arrival and departure is a gift greater than you or I will ever comprehend.


Farewell white queen!  I shall look anxiously for you once again when the days are rapidly shrinking, and we all shall honor your arrival with feasting and merriment.  Thank you so much for all that you have shared during your visit.








juan1966 juan1966
46-50, M
13 Responses Mar 9, 2009

Hmmm .. I think you are a bit ok too.. um . the story I mean ofcourse

Butt kisser. *giggles and snorts*

*bows*<br />
And I should say that I am thankful for the eyes which have read this.

Take the bow Juan. :)

Thank you, Datura for the poem. The one whom Shaw addresses is one I long to be.<br />
<br />
And, again, Nancy, thank you for your warm compliments. Those mad skills are nothing compared to the great everything that inspires them.

This shows in the way your words paint the scene. There's some serious mad skills at work in the art of your ex<x>pression!

I am once again in total admiration of your ability to capture the essence of things and to put it into words. Your story and your eloquent eyes that watch the seasons pass and see the beauty and gift in all of them makes me think of this Frances Shaw poem and the man it speaks of.<br />
<br />
<br />
WHO loves the rain <br />
And loves his home, <br />
And looks on life with quiet eyes, <br />
Him will I follow through the storm; <br />
And at his hearth-fire keep me warm; <br />
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise, <br />
Who loves the rain, <br />
And loves his home, <br />
And looks on life with quiet eyes.

There are times when I'm simply humbled by the power and wonder of it all. I feel blessed that I have a balanced diet of all four seasons in these parts.

You are too modest....

She deserves praise as the others do.

Marvelous...just marvelous, Juan *bows*

So soulful and honest, Juan. The well that you have drawn these words from is rich, mighty and dripping with jewels. What a remarkable companion piece to your other love story. Bravo!

And thak you, Duchess for your generous praise.