Winterlust
Winter's here:
chapped lips, ice-skating,
steaming lemon tea
sipped by the window.
I look out
at the crisp blue sky,
at the bare sunlit
fields and trees,
at the laughing children
bundled beyond recognition.
And now I understand.
Winter doesn't come
wearing gloom or sadness;
it enters naked,
an unadorned snowman
waiting to be clothed
with whatever we can muster:
a carrot, a top hat, a scarf,
a wool sweater embroidered
with the word: WELCOME!