Winter Clarity

Bright cold blows thin, piercing
the surface, sweeping the chaff, 

clearing out the unfit things.

Winter is a harsh gardener – it culls 

the unworthy, the weak, the worn, 

so only the strong survive to spring. 

You see greenbrier, grapevine, 

and pale stands of privet choke 

the lowland in frozen profusion.

I layer up and step outside. 

A bitter wind stings my ears 

and cracks my skin. My spirit numbs. 

As cold sun cuts a flawless sky 

I shrink beneath the frigid glare 

that pierces my pretensions. 

Call me old and weak, unworthy, 

soul of dust and wind-borne chaff, 

but I am an agent of nature as well, 

so I root out the privet 

and free a green fern 

huddled in bottomland duff. 

Beneath brittle forms, 

behind the dry tangles 

abundance bides midwinter’s embrace. 

Tree fern, image from Wikipedia
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=202078