White plains; wide planes
Of wind and cold
Winter throwing
Icy grit on skin.
Yawning days of
Autumn gone by
And the sun of
Distant spring far

The forest behind my neighbor’s garage
Is ten feet wide and thirty feet long
But is full of different types of life

In summer the leaves grew full and thick
Filling the space with shades of green
The ground is dark and mysterious

But in winter the spires of lean saplings
Poke out of bright snow in numbers
Like pins in a white cushion for grandma

​The cardinals glide through
The squirrels hide nuts
The finches flutter
All in plain view of my kitchen window
The forest behind my neighbor’s garage.

I wonder what winter would be
With no wind or cold or snow
With no shovels or scrapers
Or sand or salt or shuffling on ice
No layers on layers of bundling up
Or socks of wool in heavy boots.

I guess we’d have more closet space
And more flip-flops and shorts.

But we also wouldn’t appreciate
That first sunny and melting day
In Spring when we were so weary
Of short cold days and colder nights.
Or the first thunderstorm and rain of spring
The smell of the Winter washing.

​I know what it’d be with no Winter
And I know that I don’t want it.

Winter through my window
Crisp clean cold
Blue white gray
Sleeping tree is frosted

Winter through my window
Squirrel runs
Birds flutter
For food thrown out for them

Winter through my window
January one
Year begun
Inside under blanket

​Winter through my window
Windless day
Sun shining
Bright onto white smooth snow

Feelings of aging aches beginning
Creeping in
Creeping in
In morning high snapping
Of joints and bones
Accompanied by deeper moans and groans

My reflection stares back at me now
Whiskered face
Whiskered face
The puffy eyes not younger
The hair I had retreating
I surrendered the troops to a clipper working

​I wonder if Dad felt this way too
Numb to time
Numb to time
Boys running circles
Around his life
Did he have time to enjoy the sunsets?

My flip flops thwap thwapped
The cool air felt good
On my knees and shins
Below the bottom of my shorts

It had been a long day
Of dress shoes and pants
In the convention hall
On my feet all day

I relished the change of clothes
And the warm January California air
That evening as we went to eat
Under a rising full moon

But as we observed the locals around us
We wondered if maybe I had under dressed
Or if they had over reacted to the chill
That night that felt good to me relatively

​Patagonia puff coats, Uggs,
Scarves and mittens were the norm
And dogs wearing coats.
I laughed on the inside.

I’ve got better things to do
Than not drink orange soda
My winter is long enough
Without that summer in a bottle

It’s the taste of my youth
That magic orange soda
Fanta, Crush, or Sunkist
They all take me there

​Carbonated sweet sun
This icy orange soda
Every sip is a portal in time
Take me back, take me back

Cool grass blades
And blue glass fades
To golden reflections
Of sunset on my window

Sprinklers shush shushing
And mourning doves cooing
The light fades away
And lightning bugs play

​Summer nights
I could use you now
As I sit here in February
Cold and tired.