What is it about winter that is so beautiful?
Why do I shun away spring, the light guiding and coaxing seed to root to bloom?
What within the deep winter months appeals to every fiber and cell of my being?

Here in January, the wind scours iced land, thin of snow, yet brown
and waiting in every other way, for the sublime chaos to arrive.

Broken sky darkens and consumes evenings remaining
light and soon nightfall will be here.

Turning within, turning within.

Cold days and colder evenings force
thoughts, survival, introspection of the
being within.

In the winter months, I find myself.

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