Cloud bellies
scudding along,
dangerous,
heavy with snow.
Blocking the Sun,
threatening more.
Like retaliation,
for the Summer’s warmth.
Your heart,
your hands,
are softer, now.
Long, gentle breeze
blows through the town.
The crows and ravens
gather around;
murderous,
how they are found.
The geese have been
seen returning up
to our neck of
the woods, as such
and afternoon sun
melts the snow,
but we have far to go.
Sitting here,
just hold your hand.
Our plans on hold,
we understand;
transitioning
in the land,
from show to mud,
from mud to sand.
Each day we wake
and watch those clouds;
fat cherubim,
still hang around.
Our patience long,
our love is strong.
We wait for Spring,
’til Winter’s gone.
I hold your hand,
the world moves on.
I’d never rush
this time along.
HG – 2018
