Winter is our bittersweet, vacant to keep us warm throughout the grief. Little by little, more birds will sing flowers can open, beauty will bloom again -- a chorus of loveliness in which to honor you,
yet holding the promise of Spring.
It can be dim and cold, and it can keep us
in, underneath our quilts of memories
and the heavied ground begin to thaw.
The sun shall come, the green fields flow,
and a welcome comfort for us all.
© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
