WAITING FOR WINTER It seems so un-natural, this in-between time.  I raise my head and force a smile. I wait for the winter to come. To really arrive. Not with a fleeting flurry, but with a full on snow globe blizzard. I want to feel the weight of snow, as it pushes away  the November grey. With it’s blanket of clean, clinging to the bark, clinging to my insides. I long to see the snow stacked against the fence. A promising wall, a frozen defense, a gleaming reflection almost blinding, that heats up my face. And as the sickles form on the roofs edge, the sharp ice begins to melt in my heart. And as I sit by the flames I stare at the art that is these hills. It’s in this trance like state that I think I see you, honest as freshly fallen snow, walking my way. ©2014 Becca #105