Discontent in Winter
By Jay Voss, February, 2015
In the middle of a funky winter
The snow piles high on the
Side streets of town.
The whiteness suggests purity,
But the reality is not so pure.
Winter for me once was a time
Of sledding, skating, skiing,
And photographic wonderment
As I snapped heavy snow
On bending branches.
With age comes a reticence
Toward the falling snow, howling wind,
The drifts piled high.
I have shoveled enough.
Winters come and winters go;
Some are more annoying than others.
However, there is still wonder
In the infinite flake formed shapes
And wind sculptured snowscapes.
Perhaps an aging soul
Just needs to take a deep breath
And be thankful for the beauty
Contained in the four seasons
Of nature's symphony.
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