Can’t stop the winter’s coming
nor the winds that strip the trees
nor the snow’s relentless chill
nor the sleet’s crusty manners.
I can’t stop the winter’s will.
Why do I tremble
at the thought of ice and snow
at the deceleration of vitality
when there is still a spark
of yen in the banality?
And yet, I’ve lived through spring,
summer, into fall and if I’ve not lived
enough, loved enough, learned enough,
it’s not too late…. yet
is winter’s chilling rebuff.