A lot of things come with the frost.
Slow starts.
Gas bills.
The chance of snow.
Here, there is but grudging acceptance
for the world
going green,
then gold,
then grey,
then white.
For many,
winter is a prison.
Daylight savings time
gives one hour of fitful sleep,
on a cold, Sunday morning,
then steals the sun
for six long months.
Almost a form of psychological torture.
But I remember as a child
the short sunlight days
that never once abated
a game of hockey
on the neighborhood rink,
or sledding down the big hill
by the church,
or the seemingly endless visits
with friends and family
that only intensified
as winter wore on,
before reaching their crescendo
between Christmas and New Year’s.
Debt.
War.
Cancer.
Fear.
Crime.
Sadness.
The stresses of this age
to don’t belong
to that little child
who knew nothing
of these things
and did nothing to earn them.
The furnace kicks in.
I start the truck remotely from indoors.
There is a decent job to do
and more responsibility at home
every day.
The frost comes,
reminding us of our vulnerability.
Thin skinned limitations
we were able to ignore
through the summer months.
There will be hardships,
to be sure,
but that long-gone, winter child
is still able
to welcome the frost.
DJR – 2023
