In the Middle of Winter

Reading another's verse on
winter, I was reminded of my
remembrance that the passing

silver solstice overcomes the
darkening months. It all
gets lighter from here. It is

that yellow solstice, that
brightest of days, that hearkens
the sun's shyness, its coy frolic

with the shadows. We don't
notice because of the heat
of those days. But today,

in remembrance, as a member
of this lazy, yet demanding
stroll, I look up from my

thoughts in the handed-down
chair and see crystallized water
flurries meander toward the

clipped grass and tarred
road, and I know it's still
cold, still, hopefully,

maneuvering into that place
where the days are yet
bright and pull warmth out

from, not pimple up and
close off, the skin.