Winter

The cold and bitter winter weather has me thinking about  lines in a poem by Dobby Gibson that stuck with me.  They are from a poem called Upon Discovering My Entire Solution to the Attainment of Immortality Erased from the Blackboard Except for the Word "Save."  It's interesting how these things happen.  I cannot remember more of it so I must go off and find it so my memory is refreshed.

And if you have looked
at a winter garden
and seen not a winter garden
but a meditation on shape,
then you know why
this season is not
known for its words,
the cold too much
about the slowing of matter,
not enough about the making of it.