Some say it is madness
To find joy in the bleak winter,
The colorless vistas,
The bone-chilling cold.
Spring will bring its verdant gifts,
But for now, I will rejoice,
Finding warmth in the arms of my love,
Hearing stories in the crackle of the fire,
Feeling hope in the crisp light of a sunrise.
Winter comes bearing gifts of introspection,
Not for it the obvious beauty of lush green landscapes.
Instead, the subtle glory of black and white,
Of spun gossamer draping the world in powdery robes.
Life itself seems to slow as we draw inward,
The earth slumbering in soft crystal blankets.
Yes, some say it is madness to find beauty now,
But life is now,
And so I will dance in the asylum of joy.