John Grey

A Cure in Winter

John Grey

Just when I’m getting up for living, it begins to snow again. Like all winters, this one never knows when to stop. The ground is white and more white falls atop it. It’s like non-living. No voices. No music. Just wind, that furious nothingness. And drifts like frozen riptides. I’m healing but the outside’s come down with something. It’s called weather. The earth must have caught it from me.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in the New World Writing, Dalhousie Review and Blood And Thunder. Work upcoming in Hollins Critic, Redactions and California Quarterly. John lives in Rhode Island.