Victory is Mine

Every year when the skies grow dark and the air gets bitter cold, I wonder to myself if I can survive another winter. 

I sometimes think that the chill will saturate my bones like a malignancy- that the wind will bite at my face till I'm no longer human- 
and that the darkness will smother my heart till it can no longer feel joy.

I've always felt at odds with winter. 
As though it is an enemy- bound and determined to destroy me- to weaken me to the point of unconditional surrender. 
A brute and an evil that tests my fortitude and faith.

But I gaze out the window this morning and see the sun rising in a pool of lilacs and pinks-
its promise spreading across the hazy sky like a veil of mercy. And I smile- crack this membrane of winter 
and breathe in a hint of days to come.

 I pull open the blinds- wince at the sight of sharp, icy layers still floating on the pond- of snow heaped at the base of the pine trees- like a pile of white shirts that winter left behind.

But beyond, I see grass- brown and comatose, but tingling at its roots with new life. I see birds- soft and fat- bursting with the need to sing- to fill the trees with the music of spring- to fly through warm breezes and touch the blueness of the endless sky.

I imagine green spreading over the yard like emerald honey- like a gentle coat of flowers and clover. 
I close my eyes and feel the sun touching my face with an invisible hand and lifting me up from this winter bunker into the freshness of new days.


Soon daffodils will push their way out of frozen earth and stretch around the porch in tiny yellow dresses and the buds of trees will rip from their pods and dance with the honeysuckle.

Winter retreats. Spring grows stronger. 

I've survived.