Winter is hard.
Dragging lugubrious time spread out over frozen ground.
The landscape set in variations of black and gray conceals
Latent life buried below, silent and waiting under a chill.
And mirroring a sky brushed with wind.
I find myself getting fat for no reason and I am always cold.
The urge for hibernation is strong.
I want to curl up, hide away.
Instead, I go out swaddled in the heavy scarf and black puffer coat.
Insignias waved, not only by me, of temperature extremis.
I smile behind the layers.
If anyone can see the useless effort there is no acknowledgement,
My false optimism is wasted.
One more indignity or could it be a reprieve?
Few can tell my age.
An introverted sun behind clouds sinks, too soon, towards the horizon,
Without cozy gatherings of friends or family around a fire.
Only weather marks the passing of daylight, evening and night,
I am tired and darkness calls me to my bed,
Repeating the mantra through the falling snow,
Winter is hard.
