Wintering

The crunch of hardened snow. A mouthful of icy air, everybody's breath visible in swirling clouds. Head down, into the wind, cuts like broken glass. Deer reported starving. How do sparrows endure all winter, perched side by side, huddling? So many things are marked for departure, but instead they linger, stay where there is no comfort, where everybody covets their warmth, nothing extra available. Just remember the starving deer and you'll get the whole picture of wintering. And then you must abide the time, it's frozen too. Balancing your heavy body with flapping arms, you attempt a winter walk. It's a good idea gone bad. Blame the weather, the rest of us do. There are no feelings here to be hurt. Remember the face of Janus, the doubled-faced god staring into two time zones with no emotion, hard as ice, cold as snow, no friend to men and women, just a guardian of winter, a time-keeper whose cold gaze sees neither beauty nor wonder, only duration from solstice to equinox. So many other things marked for departure have fled, but you chose to remain, winter after winter, you endure, you prevail in this cul de sac. There must be some deep sense of beauty in your soul which rises every December and embraces this frigid season. It is not warmth that rises to flood your being, it is a sense of belonging to this land in every season.