Last Gasp

Last Gasp

A weary walk
through a frozen world
raging fire behind the eyes
face stung by tearing wind
winter's last gasp cast

Tomorrow I rise
above this clay
Burst into bloom

~Joyce E. Rempel

Cold Cuts

Ah, bitter January,
sandwiched between
festive December
and loving February,
your cold silence
is brittle
and unbecoming.

Goodbye

As the sun disappears, 
temperature drops
and thanks rise 
for a good heater 
and heated seats 

Drive 
thru a frozen fairyland;
ice crystals bloom
from every sprig, 
tuft and tree. 

Fly 
thru flat fog ribbons, 
drifting ten feet above the plain, 
again and again, 
then          gone.

The Winter Widow

While it is true
I have a new life
and new love
that I am happy, content and fulfilled

I am also still a widow
draped by all that has come before
I process this mantle every single day
like remembering to pick up my winter

coat from the dry cleaners
and put it on when I walk past the place
where I spilled wine on the hem
at supper that last week

I pull the fur
lined hood over my head
as his favorite song rumbles
through the playlist

The elbow snags when I bump
into his former employee at the game
and she adds the scarf of her arm
around my neck, chatters on

about how excited he would be
that we are in the cup run,
how he regretted not opting
for playoff tickets in '04.

I take the coat in again
ask if they can remove the stain
repair the snag, box it up
like the wedding dress of '81

I use the coat less now
it's getting tattered
no longer a go-to choice
and while it was

very helpful for three winters
and I will never get rid of it
the weight is more than I
need for this spring

Picture 1: depositphotos.com #5278483, standard license

Picture 2: depositphotos.com #14069717, standard license