sky meets horizon seamlessly,
blue seeps between air and ground alike,
tinctures that cannot be considered pastel,
that will not reveal hidden hollows between,
hide all and in hiding, banish black from sight

blank sky joins snow bound roofs, each rising
to Olympian heights, make the lip of a ski jump
for gods to compete upon, even though they
descend through a cloud of impenetrability,
bereft of the usual symbols, rainbows, showers of
flowers, angels singing, columns of flame, instead
they soar past invisibly, indiscriminate in flight

in winter the colour grey is iridescent, parallax
lenses that chart the intimate loss of brilliance,
discover subtle streaks of indigo, emerald, evening
regal strands of purple, faded gold, woven into
plain tattered cloth, its nap imperceptible

<< Almost two years ago I started this blog as “12 Books in a Year”. I included 3 Seasons suggesting each was a book. That would fall under the category exaggeration. The intent has always been to publish a complete book The 4 Seasons. But that would require a complete book. I was missing Spring.
Consequently, I have been working on Spring. And in the process of working on Spring poems, I wrote more Winter poems — which is fitting as it is still winter. For now, the blog is re-titled Winter. The poems to follow are additional to the ones already posted under the title Winter. That has to make sense.
Spring will follow. That, too, seems to make sense. — wm >>