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Image by Diana Parkhouse
Sometimes winter has just started
And I am already impatient for spring,
Sometimes when I am on my way to the bus stop
I want to reverse directions and go home
But I slog through the snow,
Holding myself close through bitter wind.
Sometimes I sit at a café and drift
Off to memories of canyon silence. I shake
A little of the dust of the desert which still clings
To my skin, no matter that I have been
These fifteen years in the north.
I find solace and company next to the fire
And even the potholes and bridges have
learned to sing.
Wendy Brown-Báez is the author of Heart on the Page: A Portable Writing Workshop, a novel Catch a Dream and the poetry collection Ceremonies of the Spirit. Her poetry and prose appear in numerous literary journals and anthologies, including Water~Stone Review, Poets & Writers, Tiferet, Comstock Review, Mizna, Mom Egg Review, and Talking Writing. Wendy facilitates creative writing in community spaces such as schools, libraries, churches, prisons, and healing centers. wendybrownbaez.com
This is beautiful… and touches me.
Thank you! It took me years to see the beauty of winter, with a little help from poetry.
Thank you so much for reading and responding.
Fantastic, Wendy, I can feel the cold in your words. But also the sand on your skin. Well done!
Thank you, Lena. The southwest will always be in my blood but I am glad I can see beauty in winter, too!