Teresa Madore

To Breathe Again

The sun’s dull eye sits low on the horizon, brooding a feeble glow, and

Winter seems to hold her breath.

In this anemic air, a deep, pulsing white noise envelops.

Winter permeates, surrounds, settles in, and lays bare what was once hidden.

Fresh snowfall betrays creatures’ furtive wanderings. . .

fox’s dotted tracks skirting pine boughs in fat, cursive loops.

Leafless woods reveal sparrow’s teacup nest wedged in forked Y of the birch.

Nature gives up all in winter, as an offering—

a chance view of the underpinnings of her transformational beauty.

This is the framework upon which summer’s promise sleeps and waits,

Longing to breathe deeply again.