When Winter Ends

Snow high, ice on my path

heavy layers and an unwilling body

I shout to the wind, “When will it end?”

The wind replies, “When it ends.”

For our suffering, all things uncertain,

a sense of failure, inability to believe,

I scream into the wind, “When will it end?”

and the wind replies, “When it ends.”

All things in life - too small to play a part,

little choice, but to wail against my confinement,

“When will it end?”

and the wind replies, “When it ends.”

When love washes over me as I hold my beloved and death winks

from down the hall. I cling tighter.

I beg the wind, “When will it end?”

gently the wind replies, “When it ends.”

For all the answers the wind has supplied. I have ignored the calls.

Until the soft moments of morning, when I watch a sunrise so pink, kiss this broken world

All things in life are reborn wet with dew.

Opening my hand I let the wind play, this time I sigh,

“It ends when I open my eyes.”

This poem was written in early February of 2026.

Winter now shows signs of ending. What have we learned?

When winter ends the world begins to sing. Below are some field recordings of Spring Peepers and Wood Frogs - excited to be out in the sun once again. Enjoy.

A goose resting at golden hour at Edwin B. Forsyth Wildlife Refuge - NJ