they will never know the stillness, 

the silence, as the world hushes

when the first snowflakes drop out of the sky.

 

they will never feel the crisp air

or see white blanket the fields

as it does every year.

 

kept indoors,

safe and warm,

where humidity breathes,

where mist showers from above,

and crawling critters burrow,

where life continues.

 

under wraps to avoid 

deep freeze,

never a first blossom of the year

but life sustains

returning to us

again, and again.

 

among rows of green

as infants in a nursery,

this is the only place 

sprouts now grow.

 

under a careful eye 

we’re both determined 

to stay alive.