The Bones of Winter

Remnants of snow melt into the lake
Swelling its pewter volume to flow like liquid glass
Into the forest edges,
and here I stand among the wet leaves,
brown and rotting on the earth
it’s not quite warm enough yet
for new leaves to unfold,
tender and lime green;
the fingers of sunlight have yet to reach
deep into the soil and caress life into the dormant roots
stroking them tenderly
and encouraging the sap to flow,
enticing new life from black earth.

I see the bones of winter around me
rib cage hung with sinew
hide still on the head
It’s been a long, hard winter
With teeth like a coyote
Biting into flesh,
but with the return of the sun I feel new life
boiling in my soul,
I feel it surging like the rivers
swollen with snowmelt
washing away winter’s bones.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 13, 2011)