Winter Has Its Motives

Cold feet

Cold feet,
cold hands

Cold feet,
cold hands,
cold nose

Cold feet,
cold hands,
cold nose
                  it’s too cold to relax,
too gray to hope for any sunshine,
and Spring too far away
to remember the sounds
and the colors of warmth.

There is a deep chill
returning to this land,
and this year it seems
a little bit colder
                  almost cruel and calculated.

This is not the kind of Solstice
we’ve come to expect
                  with gifts, glowing lights,
and well-wishers singing
of peace and joy.

We may be cold.
We may be tired and trembling.
Yet even during the deepest
and darkest night of winter,
there is a seed glowing with us
that will blossom into Spring.

Winter has its motives.

---

This poem was written on November 30, 2025.