The Last Winter

by Shaun Terry

The Last Winter

Snow in springtime,
breaking leaves on pale powder,
a furnace for last year’s lost love letters.

Stubborn spades of April’s grass
try to break Winter’s promise
of short grey days
and long black nights,
of half-chewed words
and touch born of pragmatism, rather than of
profound personal connection.

But this snow is never-ceasing:
long, sunny days will aim to
break the shackles
of this coldest, longest winter.

The edge of an axblade can’t
break a fire forged
in millennia of mismanagement.

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