Thursday, September 11, 2008

My warm friend

The hot days of summer are dwindling down
The mornings arrive wrapped in a new blanket of cool
It is not cold by any means, but the morning blaze is gone
The early air feels moist now instead of dry

Summer still comes for his afternoon visit
The sun still shines brightly in the sky
The hot sticky is just coming later each day
And it leaves earlier than the day before

Lest you become confused and this may do it
I must let you know summer is not my warm friend
No no, not with the arid hotness of a dragons breath
Summer is hot, staying too long, working too hard

My warm friend comes bearing a blanket
She comes with a whisper or a howl
She curls her icy fingers around you
And chills you to your soul

Some days she comes dry and brittle
Some days she comes white and heavy
She will make you cling to the blankets at night
And wait until the last chance to get out of bed

My warm friends name comes like a whisper
Stolen from the lips of the gods
A cloud high above rooftops
let’s go a gentle refrain .. Calling her name .. Winter

Summer boasts his fervent heat
He rants and raves his summer storms
But inside he knows and trembles
Winter is coming to chase him away

Autumn will stand between them
Like a staid referee
Somberly holding them apart
While they glare across the divide

Summer hears the chorus of complainers
Wishing end to summers reign
Calling for the coldness of winter
In the fickleness that is man

Winter know too well the murmurers
Decrying her nipping frosty touch
Caught in winters beautiful grasp
Calling out for summers hot

Not I, for I embrace my warm friend
I embrace my blanket of beauty
I know of summer’s necessity
But long for the touch of winter

The touch of her invigorating kiss
The feel of her piercing gaze
Her unsympathetic reality
I am winter, did you expect less?

So, come winter
Come across the mountains
Blow across the plains
Dive down from your high northern perch
Come to me, my warm friend.

Ron Simpson Jr.
September, 11, 2008

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