Winter is for laboring,
the same old endless feeling.
Snow heavy on a branches frame
holds together injured limbs,
but deep below the armored ground
out past the icy balustrade,
new life begins.
Abandoning
the season’s stern traditions,
shoots dingle-dangle in disbelief.
Crack the cast of snow beneath
a patch of Snowdrops reappear:
the season’s first reveal.
©2025 | K. F. Hartless
This is a poem inspired by the calendar of Eugène Grasset-Les Mois. Join me in penning something for January’s print. If you’re a fan of All Poetry, please consider entering your response to my in-house contest.
Cheers!
Katie
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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