In the Depths of Winter by Nancy Norton

In the horrible hoarfrost heart of winter
love loses its luster, the silver spark
dulls to gunmetal gray.
A courtly boss turns manic
and, blowing hard, turns his
loyal supporters against him.
A winter coat develops
a terminal case of static,
grows worn and frowsy,
tears its lining in despair.
The whole family of a dear friend,
gripped with cold, sapped of energy,
can eat only frozen vegetables.

The canal divulges a drainage problem,
collects trash and rancid foam,
drives the swans to leave for cleaner waters.
Bulbs refuse to bloom. Flowers reluctantly emerge
lacking joie de vivre, refusing to dance with the ruthless wind.
Hearty winter meals gag throats.
Wool knit hats cut off circulation to brains.
Sweaters, scarves and gloves suffocate skin.
Wrapped and weighted, wretched souls are dragged
ever down into drear winter's cold heart.


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