When the Frost Comes

Most of my poems are pretty upbeat. Oh, there are those I've written just for myself ... a little less than upbeat in instances, I suppose ... poems that deal with pain ... and healing.

I find some release ... some relief ... for having written them. They are unlikely ever to be shared.

Then there are those like today's.

It's not an upbeat subject ... this matter of loss ... personal loss. Still, in coming to grips with loss, we sometimes do find a degree of comfort ... I don't know if that's the right word ... an easing, I guess, of the burden imposed upon us.

I hope that comes through in today's poem:

WHEN THE FROST COMES

We miss the flowers

that kept us company

during summer months.

Well into the winter

we savor the memories

of their nodding under

the weight of foraging

bees, of their colors

lifting our spirits.

And so it is

with dear friends

and companions.

When they have gone,

we remember the bright

times we shared, how

we cheered each other,

and we cherish these

good memories, flowering

long after the frost

to give us sustenance.

© 2003

(originally published in Brave Hearts)

***

Today's word: sustenance

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

I'm glad, Helen, that you found an upbeat aspect to the rather solemn subject of this poem ... I was trying for that, even while the poem was speaking to me of personal loss. I think it needed that little ray of light toward the conclusion, and I'm glad you spotted it.

Thanks, Kelly, for that reaction to the photo ... a snapshot taken during one of my walks (I'm always looking for an excuse to pause a moment or two before trudging on) ... and thanks for those kind words about the poem ... and, yes, I'm enjoying the week ... while steadily falling behind on my responses ... almost as though I nodded off in the midst of the conversation. My apologies all around. Oh, yes, we're, indeed, approaching that 40,000th-visitor mark! I never thought I'd see that ... guess we should have a celebration ...