Winter Is Coming

Our Contributing Editor and Poet-in-Residence, Bob Weirauch, is reflecting about winter. A Wisconsin guy through and through, the stiff winds of North Central Wisconsin are piercing Bob's sweater and other layers, through and through. Winter is coming and that's a fact. 

Winter on the Lake

Winter is Coming. 

A stiff wind blows hard across the lake on a late fall day in a fierce way. White caps froth and reflect the sun rays and break them up in a dozen ways. The wind feels cold and drills right through my sweater but the sun burns my face and warms me till I feel better. 

I look up at a blue sky speckled with billowy white clouds that remind me of another day years ago when I was younger and full of youthful energy. Before the days of life, reality and responsibility, before the days of sorrow, regrets and old age lethargy. 

I smelled the scent of burning wood, wafting through the neighborhood. There are very few things in life that smell so good. Maybe a newborn baby or a puppies breath, morning coffee or fresh baked bread. Maybe a field of lavender or the scent of her hair when you hold her near. 

But I digress I must confess because I was thinking about the Fall that comes before the winter mess. The ice, the snow, the sleet will soon be coming. No more burning sun, our bodies numbing. The icy winds and burning fires, shoveling snow our noses running. 

After all, winter is coming.

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Gone but not forgotten, at least in the eyes (and mind) of Bob Weirauch. If you ever come across an old, abandoned house, give it some thought. There might not be anyone living there, but it's probably alive with stories, some good, perhaps some not so good. Let your imagination run because that's something that should never be abandoned. 

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