One Does Not Conquer Winter

One does not conquer winter. 
In exchange for spring’s songbirds,
a wintry creek’s gurgle muted below an icy cover,
like an elusive memory
—a forgotten dream awakening.
 
Summer’s warm breeze
Met with a frigid gale,
blowing in a frozen ravine.
And the erasure of autumn’s brilliance
beneath a frosted quilt.
 
But looking closer,
crystalline lily pads
—frozen--
inverted above a timeless stream.
A lesson written in ice.
 
No, one does not conquer winter . . .
One learns from it.

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