Winter

I was born on the cusp of winter 

So naturally, I felt I must be married to the snow and to cold weather 

To black ice, hybernation, and great big godly storms 

Winter gave birth to me, and I loved her out of obligation 

A bitter right of passage 

The summer I met you, my hair had finally started to grow long 

I had cut it, an awful butchered bob gifted to me in late December 

Tied by my own shaky hands and seasonal lack of judgment 

I was learning to be gentle with myself, cradle my own skin 

What one does in the winter to survive must be left in the cold

Only a fool brings a coat into the heat of summer

You were always very good about that, leaving things in their respective time 

But perhaps that was because you were born on the brink of new beginnings

Grace and growth came easy to you

Spring exuding, though winter in your Spring's soft shadow 

You embodied both the worst and best of each year 

The summer you met me, you decided to make some changes

To stick around even when the flames were red and growing redder 

And when my winter boiled over 

You used my meltdown to plant three rows of pink carnations 

They stuck up through the snow and obligation 

A sure sign of kindness and reassurance

I was born on the cusp of winter 

So naturally, I felt I must be married to the snow and to cold weather

Though I have learned 

A cool breeze is to be carried through and past winter 

And summer- summer is my favorite, spring in her shadow, she brought me you.