A Kind of Winter

A Kind of Winter Never to see you turn and smile or smell your rain-wet hair or feel your hand or hear your voice or look into your heart-full eyes or hold you when you cry 'til Sun and laughter come again is a kind of Winter, as now when city, meadow, river field are numb with cold and lashed by rain that bends us in rebuke of our too prodigal Spring. But Sun and Spring will come again painting trees and flowers, grass and sky green yellow red and blue and water freed from snow will dance seaward through the clover fields past celebrating birds to sunlit shore where my wildly beating heart searching horizons of blue sky someday may see your homeward sail sparkling whitely at farthest edge of the infinite blue-green, dancing sea.