The Gate

The gate of Winter’s darkness

            Leads to a world of black

Where only those with faith in Spring

            May someday venture back.

 

The gate swings open quickly

            To let in Winter’s breath…

Then silently swings shut again

            To lock in icy death.

 

The quails from the apple trees

            With rabbits on the ground,

Huddle close inside the hedge

They do not make a sound

 

As…

 

Winter’s great bald eagle

            Soars over the frozen bay,

To find an iced down seagull

            And other dying prey.

 

The wind from the Aleutians

            Is also winter’s slave.

The williwaws move houses

            From cliffs to ocean graves.

 

The gate blocks out all colors

            Inside it’s black and white

The house, a columbarium.

            The world outside is night.

 

Sometimes when I close my eyes,

            I dream of spring and wait…

For only those with faith in spring

            Unlock the Winter gate.