The more winter strips away,
the more what remains stand out.
Bright berries in defiance
of winter white.
About this poem.
With me, poems are rarely about one thing. Even short ones.
Certainly a poem about winter color. Also a poem about what happens when things are stripped away from our lives, whether it be in a time of quarantine, or loss, or choice. When we have loss, what is left leaps out at us, in beautiful ways.
A poem inspired by my cancer treatments, which are leaving me tired, and at time nauseous. Still, what time that is good, is particularly precious.