I haven’t written on here in a while. I thought maybe my muse had gone on vacation, but further inquiry has left me to believe that I’ve just been stagnant in regards to my creative thoughts. I usually undergo a flurry of writing activity during the wintertime, as the weather and the landscapes awaken my sleeping creative genius. I’ve certainly felt the silence of the frozen landscape beat a tune within my heart (a love song of snowy interludes) many times this winter, but my days and nights have been spent composing exams and lectures instead of poems and thoughtful essays, with no energy leftover to devote to my writing. I shall break that stagnancy with a short poem about winter’s retreat (I don’t think it’s a proper sort of poem, it is just what decided to come out. Which makes it proper enough):
I have gotten used to the silence of the daybreak, broken only by my own footsteps and softly whinnied ‘good mornings’ as breakfast is delivered, hay spread across the ground with hands that freeze if left ungloved for too long.
During the heart of winter, the only time the breath is truly considered is when the water vapor freezes in a crust on your upper lip, and every indrawn breath crackles across your lungs to remind them that they still have to work, even in unpleasant conditions.
But now, the morning is a time of exaltation. Coatless is the new cool, a cold is considered as a herald of significant weather changes, and sometimes I get in my car and drive it off right after starting it. Just because I can. But I will feel bad about that for at least another few weeks, because it is still a wee bit chilly early on and the car doth protest too much.
I stand outside well into the evening, daring the night to push me inside. It dares, and I resist, in a sweater no less (while my warm barn coat seethes with jealousy inside). I take a few extra minutes to scratch the horses, and though my hand comes away covered with the first of the spring season’s shed of hair (which will inevitably find themselves attached to my face and clothes), I smile. Because Spring is on it’s way, giving Winter a laugh and a gentle push out the door.