The Pain of Winter
Seven degrees and the quarry lake is frozen.
The snow has become hard
and there are no tracks from the animals of the night.
The few remaining plants are mere stalks, dry and brittle,
dark counterpoints to the snow.
Behind you, down below, is warmth.
the woman you love is there, nestled
in the house you share.
You will go back soon enough,
but for now you need to be here,
where the cold seeps into your skin.
You need to feel the bitter wind,
the hurt of it. You need
of life without place or love. You vow
to never forget the pain of those years,
for in remembering your appreciation is that much greater.
Far up the quarry, you hear a lone coyote.
Its yips echo off the stone walls.
He will not be alone, you think;
neither of us was made for aloneness.
Not for long. Even an introvert like you,
a man comfortable in empty spaces,
You stand for a time. You can feel the temperature fall.
You turn and walk down the icy path, back home,
back to her,
the pain of winter raw in your bones,
rejoicing that it is a temporary thing, and below,
About this poem
I am the introvert’s introvert, comfortable in silence and empty spaces. But even I know I am better with someone. And best with the right someone.
This is a love poem to that right someone, the woman I love and who loves me.