Winter’s Gift

Winter fights to hang on well into almost April. In the country it isn’t necessarily robins pecking at a cache of frozen apples or a sudden blast of sunshine that marks spring’s approach. It’s the sound of ice crunching underfoot.

apple

The transition of seasons is marked by a layering effect of rain falling upon snow followed by snow upon ice. I step carefully as I walk into the woods behind our house, picking my way over precarious spreads of dirty white, my boot soles leaving impressions in the sparkling surface.

woods

This year winter is definitely not going out like a lamb. Temperatures are projected to plummet as low as two degrees tonight; one last heave-ho of bone-chilling, muscular force. Tomorrow morning my footsteps will be frozen fossils alongside days-old deer tracks, a record of one brief and beautiful moment I spent on this earth. Other seasons have their gifts, but winter is the only one that can literally suspend time.

About Smallpeace

Michele Karas is a poet, essayist, and longstanding professional copywriter, who currently works for a top-five US book publisher. Her poems and prose have appeared in literary journals, including Tinderbox, THRUSH, Alaska Quarterly Review, and Narrative magazine, among others. Michele holds a BA in Journalism from San Diego State University and an MFA in Creative Writing from CUNY, The City College of New York. Find her on Twitter @small_peace.
This entry was posted in Nature • Animals, Smallpeace and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Winter’s Gift

  1. mom says:

    another beautiful and thought provoking piece by my talented daughter. I so. enjoy reading your work.

  2. Christopher Graham says:

    You have a gift. I enjoy your writing and photos immensely. Thank you. cg

  3. Smallpeace says:

    @mom. I am joking, of course.

  4. Elaine E Graham says:

    Christophers Mom—————thank you for sharing What a long winter for the animals and the people that have to tolerate the cold. BUT—Time is like a river. You can’t touch the water twice, because the flow that passed will never pass again. Enjoy each moment of life.

    • Smallpeace says:

      What a poetic observation, Elaine. I never thought about water quite like that, but of course you can’t touch it twice. And I have it on good authority that you’ve weathered a few cold winters in Adams, MA, in years gone by. All this cold will make us extra happy for spring. Thanks so much for reading. And do come back to Smallpeace! ~M

  5. Touch2Touch says:

    Oh, nicely observed, Michele!
    I flashed on the bears, who “hibernate,” well, semi-hibernate, by remaining in a state of partly-suspended animation for the duration of the winter.
    This winter again and again I wished I could do the same!

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