Photo by Ales Krivec on Unsplash
Northerners beckon the cold,
They stand to suffer, knowing.
Frigid winters foster strength,
There is no shortcut to spring.
When the cold stutters birds sing,
Hearts thaw with the ground and weaken.
There is rebirth in the death of winter,
A fertile spring makes for good times.
Good times makes our hearts soft,
Unprepared for the harsh breath of winter.
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About the Creator
Meg
I'm here to explore the depth of human experience and to stop procrastinating my passion.
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