There’s a stranger in my garden
in a suit of red and white;
his belly wiggles in the wind,
it’s quite a jolly sight.
He brought the North wind in his bag,
and showed up with the frost –
if this is Santa, tell him that
his calendar is crossed!
Autumn sky, in advanced stages of labour,
struggles, pants;
ripe with womb’s distension,
she moans,
pacing,
her anxiety and pain
threatening to overwhelm.
She has forgotten to breathe.
Between contractions,
she recalls her training;
sudden intake of lungs delivers
North Wind fury.
Together,
they bring forth a son,
and name him
Snow…
*
The sky, pregnant with snow, was surly and strange and wonderful all day today. I could only capture the smallest portion of its wild beauty…