Wintertime
Wintertime

A poem on on the nature of time in the cold season

by Kristen Munk on Unsplash

I hear the mountain

of this magical landscape

enchanted by souls

who were wronged in the past

The land is still loyal

and it sings to the spirits

Shuddering peaks

groan and creak

as they exhale fall’s last gasp

They contract and they cool

like the days of the season

They shrink like the years

before me on my path

I’ll turn thirty one

with the rise of the sun

and I tense

like the rocks

at the prospect of that

The moments are cold

and they turn to ice crystals

frigid seconds set in stones

that skip forward through time

But in the heat of the fire

they’re melting and malleable

and for once in my life

the manipulation

is not my mine

I finally let go

and I let the heat warm me

I unclench my hands

turned to fists in the cold

The minutes and hours

thaw into each other

Time turns to liquid

that my fingers

can’t hold

Coyotes call

at the base of the mountain

Their voice brings me back

to the tempo of time

It echos the rhythm

of winter come running

and the moments

freeze back

into the the forward design
['Sydney J. Shipp']
['Poetry', 'Self-awareness', 'Winter', 'Time', 'Nature']