brought snow that covered
the dirt gravel yard
of the house across the street,
dressed it up in a wedding gown
until neighbor kids walked circles all over it,
left trails of footprints, laid down
and made snow angels. One of their coats,
the bright red, painted mud when he stood,
the ground, a stained hem,
breathed through the white.
Winter came again this year
with the promise of cold air,
but hitched to wind, like a one-night stand
that went on over and over again every week
until we called it a four-month affair,
then wind finally ran off with spring,
howling at winter to leave.
Winter brought cold and snow
one last time, as if trying to show off,
to show force, to tell us how much
we need the quiet hibernation.
We tried to tell winter we were grateful
for the dark, for cold fingers and toes,
for the alone time, the inhale-like gasp
of cold air, but spring had already
colored the parks, the trees, the forest.
And winter left again just as expected
without holding on too hard.