I’m still wearing winter
these waning days of May
not the winter of woolen layers
and snow boots and scarves, rather
the winter of inside spaces
of spicy chicken tortilla soup
of hot cocoa with whipped cream
of juicy pies and cobblers
of late nights with Anna Karenina
or Dante or Michener
of mending and knitting
and writing long letters
I’m wearing the winter
of contentment
of peaceful rest
of long walks on empty beaches
before summer people arrive
of preparing hard ground for abundance
of catching stray demons
and releasing them
with a sidelong glance at my reflection
in my full length mirror
I find wearing winter
quite becoming
- pb 2012
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