This is a season unspent:
there will be snow yet and storms.
Today’s cold recalled
a mere discomfort
and the bite of this wind, but a kiss.

If I prophesy spring
will you pretend to believe me?
We can blanket each other
in warmth for a time.

With the moment eclipsed
by the cold truths of winter,
will you smile me strong
as I frown toward the north?