…And Then It Passes

The distance it allows at first

The change is felt through the air

The mother of nature speaks discontently

As death tends to whisper defiance

Thinks it's surprising, fully expected

Heavily unwelcomed, purposely unhidden

There to accomodate

A more sensible whiskey warmth

Had my fills of somber hearts and lost souls

Bleak ember grey, dismal drear

Catastrophic in its own simple right

Tolerance as low as low

Unfortunately cold is cold

Scold the mother whore

For shaking the season's core

Unprepared as always

Suspiciously sneaking into

Mammoth proportions

An emblem of frigid bones

And desolate hopes

The here is now

An icy adversary of a piercing sort

Wintry blue lunacy in the eyes

No choice but to hibernate

Against these skies

Biting bitterness

Bitten

Blizzard blowing

Nipping at the fine line of your neck

Horrendous glacial

Facial disfiguration

Beaten red raw by the arctic fist

Pummelled quite considerably

Frozen bricks hold the spirit down

Destined to find the elusive shelter

Set aside reclusion from the numbing mind

Winteresque barren portrait

Painted miserably white

Living Earth

Postponed in bereavement

Temporarily cessated

Untimely anytime

This unthawing persistance

Our fine feathered friends

Seem smarter than they appear

Should've scrambled to join them

On these months that are so feared

Ferocious gusts, tempestuous winds

Drifting bales, infinitized

Unbeareble haze

Trapped like a rat in a maze

Just when you thought enough was too much

For the desperate masses... and then it passes