Marching in to Arctic drums;
Promised gift of spring succumbs
To ghosts of winter past.
Ice Queen reigns supreme for now,
Frigid frost on frigid brow;
Soon, she’ll have to take a bow,
For phantoms cannot last.
Frozen lava, heart imprisoned,
Groaning ‘neath its bitter chains.
Winter threatens its extinction,
Freezing hope that dares remain.
Volcanism’s flow resurges,
Only to be petrified;
Magma’s tender chambers stiffen,
lock the gift of warmth inside.
For more on this topic, visit my sister blog at Growing With God in my Garden