Somewhere between
Snow and slush, sleet and rain
stepping through remains
of a softly kissed scene
Destined to beat
down a path, dirt and sludge
dry mittens and socks
have soaked through again
Some might assume
this, the winter of winter
offers nothing, no value
no longer serene
but here in between
some supposed ideals
one can see the whole season
in the midst of the calm and the tension it brings
And in that that the lesson
sagging with wet
and with weight
while we pause, and we wait, for the branches to spring