Thunder claps slap me in my stomach and heart
the sound so loud I can feel it’s power to my core
the rain is disjointed, fragmented and like nails
brittle, metallic, piercing upon my tin roof
cold drapes her cape and darkness is too early
Winters’ chilly breath clings to me and all else
with crispy shattered glass grass and black icy roads
time hibernates
in a torpor while waiting for
the kick-start of Spring
Iron grey afternoons, misty mornings and
chilly bedsheets
embrace every day with a choking chilliness
a resistant prisoner I will wait
as a hibernating bear or a frozen tundra
stillness and a rigor about me will be chipped away
with every day of Spring
as I am hurtled with a kick-start
back into a living thing
© Kait King, 2015
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