The train took us back in time,
traveling from snow-capped trees,
frozen rivers, ice like spears—
journeying into a sunset
which burst on our cloud-worn eyes,
spring-like, barely remembered.
Here, the waters streaked with white
were coloured by the wind, not ice.
Bushes unburied themselves.
Cold-mantled trees bared their arms,
stretched frozen fingers sunward,
dared to dream of growing leaves.
The Christmas lights hung sadly
above still-verdant lawns.
Take me back North.
My heart yearns for quiet snow, frozen ground,
ice that dances on the water’s surface,
the bitter cold inviting itself in.
Give me winter’s perfect morning stillness.
Give me air so cold it scorches lungs,
give me a deep and velvet darkness,
caressing my face with its frost-fingers,
quieting every corner of my soul.
Take me back home.
Christine Pennylegion grew up in Toronto and has since lived in and around Ottawa, Pittsburgh, Baltimore, and Windsor. She holds a BA(Hons) in English from the University of Toronto, and an MA in Religion from Trinity School for Ministry (Ambridge, PA). Christine spends her days changing diapers, washing dishes, and reading good books. She blogs irregularly at christinepennylegion.com and writes poems.