Winter
It is a dismal thing to winter, As the world around dawns spring, To feel the bone-chill enter While in the warm air bird-songs ring.
To feel the freezing blast of pain, To wrap yourself in glacier ice, To shelter from the rain Of pickaxe-blows of “being nice”
The hammering of kindness, From friends who, in their care Pick the wound afresh, reminders, Well-intentioned, unaware.
Frostbitten, hard, numb Heavy footfalls in the snow Plodding, tired, glum, Another day to go.