When Winters Come

I wrote this poem about 4 years ago while we were driving up the Blue Ridge Parkway. I thought of it this weekend as snow blankets most of the country...

Spring will come again...

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When Winters Come

I love the mountains in winter
when you can see their soul.
No leaves to hide their feelings
no brush to take control
of the depths.

Every curve and every contour
every rock and log that lays
Seems devoid of all deception
bearing wide as if to say…..

“Here I am, as you now see me.
I’ve stood the test of time and pain
Burning wildfires, greedy loggers,
blight and drought, torrential rains.”

“Much like you,” the mountain tells me.
“When winters come,
(and winters will).
Hold fast the truths that lie within you
Prepare your heart
with ‘peace, be still’”

“Make sure your roots are deeply grounded
Make sure your paths
are well defined.
Hold the strength of your convictions.
A peaceful soul
will help you find,

that Spring will surely come again.”

Betty Newman ©2002