Metaphor as Winter

Winter stole in earlier than expectation,

quietly slinking between the last days

of the golden fall, an illness tracing

its fingertips gently, exploring

surfaces and possibilities, until

the one place was found to penetrate

and chase away what little warmth

was left. Damp cold probed, seeking

its vulnerability. Despite the stark and

terrible beauty, I could still look

at the sun and remember.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.