I have a volume of winter poems prefaced with a Foreward written by Donald Hall, former United States Poet Laureate and one of my favorite contemporary poets.  The first line of said Foreward is simply this:

Winter is always again.

 

      It's a beautifully correct statement and a line I wish I had written.  I quote it often.

 

     Today's post is one of my own winter poems, originating from something I had seen several years ago.

 

Snow Gull

 

As if the February snow

had gathered its collective will,

refusing acquiescence to

 

the March sun, knowing Spring would grow

where once was white upon the hill,

unfolding wings away it flew

 

beyond the sky that laid it low;

beyond the frozen remnants, still

searching, perhaps, for what it knew

 

is where a Winter wraith should go.

A phoenix risen from the chill:

white on white hiding in plain view.