I wrote this poem in the cold winter of 1997. Now each successive winter is “the warmest in recorded history. When the president-elect of our country is a “climate denier” determined to forfeit a healthy planet for the sake of corporate profit, one loses hope for any return to a pattern of normal seasons. Still, in the warmest of winters, the emergence of February’s daffodils give me heart and show me the way to a better world.


The long dark night                                                     _mg_9146
bears down on me
as heavy as
my old wool coat.

The shortest day
bundles me up –
long underwear,
hat, gloves, scarf,
stiffened jacket crackles
in the frosty air.
The sun casts my shadow_mg_9159shadow
wan upon the garden path.

Winter colors-
grey, brown, dark green –
shall wear,
not tomorrow,
the yellow of the daffodil._mg_4228

by Karen Laslo 12/97