'Tis the Season

by Dalene TItus

It is the time, my friend

The time of falling leaves, darkened rust in the March winds

The shorter days and cooling nights

The earth is dying, for a season

It slows and stops and withers into warm winter coats

Hunched shoulders in the wind

There’s an odd sense of excitement building in the air

Humans have always loved death,

The smell of it lingers in the air, floats on the cooling winds

It’s in the dying of the aging flowers and leaves

And the absence of the morning chirping of the birds, the subdued quiet of the hounds

In the other Hemisphere, it’s celebrated in the costumed children of safe neighbourhoods

Begging for treats

It celebrates further into pine trees with its sparkling decorations

The sparkle in reflected in the eyes

Gifts and foods and warm roaring fires which burn with the fume of marshmallows

Yes, we love death

And yet,

Toiling quietly underground

Under the blanket of cold and cloak of darkness

There is a constant hum of activity falling on deaf, rejoicing ears

Warm and roaring in rich earth, Winter defies us in quiet unassuming ways

Breeding and building the foundations of spring

Oh, how the children gasp at the new buds of spring

Escaping from the crust of ice, starkly outlaying against the white

In the soft tones of sunset hues

We curse the seemingly endless season, delight childlike at the warming winds

Our celebration and feasting long ago become tiresome and weary

Winter leaves softly, as quietly as it arrived

And utters a quiet chuckle

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