Rain on Winter’s Final Snows

The rain falls in tears.
It’s not a sad thought.
Not when it washes a snow-scarred landscape, long cold from a winter that brought cruel joy so long in promise and too short in its completion.
Watching the ice give way like pain gives way to tears. Slow, but inevitable.
Would that I’d known the coldest cruelty of season would fall to patience so well and cleanly.
I should have known.
Would that I’d known Hope’s spring would surely come.
Would that I’d known the blanket of winter guards Earth’s passion like the covers on two naked lovers waiting for the dawn to replenish . . .. That waiting for tears in spring brings promise not for winter’s end, but for new beginnings.
I did know. I chose not to listen.
And now summer sends me on a lonely quest. To find myself. A lesson long in coming.
I have but one fleeting chance. Mostly in my mind. The universe has done more with less.
I can’t move on. But I need to get ready.

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