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Winter Coup

It’s a long, long winter.

Who knows what it brings?
It won’t be a sprinter
That brings us to spring.

We’ll plod through the snow,
Some dreams lived, some on hold.

Winter gales and spring winds know
What cooks in the cold.

What they know will come forth,
May be all just the same.

But those spring winds cavort
And new things may proclaim.

A heart frozen with grief
May begin to unbend,
A tired mind find relief,
Commencing to mend.

A fallacy seen
May give way to the truth,
A new way realized,
A renewed lease on youth.

Some twinkling eyes
Like the glitter of snow,
May shine with surprise,
With enlightenment glow.

Long-dormant ideas,
Through brooding, may hatch
In the matrix of March;
Broken shells we dispatch.

Dear seemed the illusion;
Solid ground is the fact.

The bathwater’s gone;
The baby’s intact.

The winter is long;
The winter is cold.

Seeds of dreams, unsung songs
Under snow it may hold.

Toward the Tropic of Cancer,
The season’s revolved,
Some mysteries heightened,
Others resolved. Voila!

©2010 Carol Morfitt

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