Sly Vixen

by Janet Kvammen

White Magic by Janet Kvammen

Winter shimmies
her way in. One
December day you feel
her watching, whispering.
Crows fly home before five.
Leaves freeze on the vine.
Before we know it
she is here, so sly,
indifferent to discouragement.
A cold shoulder the only
acknowledgement.
Her chilled heart
does not bleed
or exude much sympathy.
The best thing to do is to
make friends with her.
Celebrate her cold beauty.
Embrace her grieving sighs.
She does not mourn for
the loss. She does not miss
what she has never known.
The thought makes a heart ache.
Plain, unadorned,
unpretentious, she keeps her secrets
all too well hidden
in a frosty demeanor.
She settles into routine
an ice queen reluctant
to give up her crown.
Dreams buried in a
blanket of white, she waits.
Gone at the first sign of green,
with a wink, the winds of change
pass her by, confident
she will return.