The steady drip of rain on winter days
is better than the snow, for those who fear
the shoveling and mess that snow can bring.
And if my job had less of misery,
I then might welcome this as grace
that wets the earth and feeds the lakes – and so
prepares us for the coming of the spring.
But now, I walk the city’s pavements hard,
with grays of skies reflected in the streets –
and grimace. “More of winter’s woe.”, I think –
and sourly wish I’d stayed between the sheets.
But while I walk and hear these phrases rise
and ebb like sighs within my mind, I think,
“By writing these, I’d burden others too,
who might perhaps be needing some relief.” –
and so I turn my mind to better things.
The grays of winter, in the polar climes,
could be our payment due for autumn’s leaves
and our deposit for the blooms of spring –
a happy thought, to mull and store away…
And thinking next of summer’s greenery,
I walk the streets and savor winter’s rain…