Come, wild winter, come.
Bring your cold,
your biting freeze,
your blankets of white,
your sounds of howling wind echoing
through the forest and across barren fields,
where gusts of white powder whisp about like roaming spirits.
Bring all you have,
and I will embrace you;
you, a servant of the Most High.
Though you may bite me,
though you may waylay my plans,
I will still adore you as one who is sent by the same Master as I.
Come, oh winter, come, that I may marvel over you, enjoy you,
taste you, build fires because of you.
You who crawls stealthily over vast stretches of land,
who causes the starry skies to glisten intensely,
who transforms lakes into sheets of ice and the green
forest into a world of sparkling white,
who ushers in the dark and lays low the daylight hour,
who builds character in me and strengthens my resolve…
Come, for a time.
B. Champan, December ‘07