In the ocean, winter is the same as spring.
Crustaceans scuttle; whales float and sing.
Outdoors, my winter kills,
But not this comfortable world, which the tide fills.
The ocean puts its misty arm
Around this northern reach; the winter can do no harm
To the thousand miles of sea
Which is like the long idea of my poetry.
The winter looks like spring under the ocean.
December seabirds ride on the wave with no emotion.
Winter affected our love. The storm. Remember
We hurried inside? Once you said, “Only in winter
Would I consider suicide.”
And do you remember the day
We watched the snow fall furiously on the sea, but it wouldn’t stay?