A Winter's Poem

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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