this season.

i'm not sure i like
this winter.
ice-packed streets,
broken branches littering sidewalks,
trees begging for a new jacket -
a bright green, delicate garment
to clothe their nakedness...
hiding it
from a world that's been cold
for too long.

a world that's full of
woollen swathed, covered faces
with only eyes exposed -
beacons of life that exist above
scarves swishing in the negative windchills
and
hands cloaked in leather.

eyes that look up at the branches cracking in the wind
- straining to glimpse signs of life
while feet remain stuffed inside fuzzy boots
and jean cuffs continue to be stained with salt -
residue.

the dirt of the season.