POEM: What The Winter Is For

Winter is for planning a garden,
It is for verdant visionary quests.
It is a fantasy of mulch and raised planting beds
And for the relentless thumbing of dog eared catalogs of heirloom seeds.
It is for the hope that always dies around us and within us
It is for the chance to be nurtured back to health by an augúst harvest.

Winter is the dream reset
That white snowy carpet shushing the soil,
Stilling the industry of blue jays,
Chilling the heated speech of crows.

It is the shine of carry on, faith in sight unseen
It is a quiet faith in you and me and everything.