In the grip of the snow Queen

the Canadian winters icy fingers
grip my world tightly.
The door to spring
is timelocked
like a bank vault.

Sitting alone
by my window

warm breath melting
a portal into the street.
Melting the kaleidoscope
patterns of ice crystals

that formed in the night.
Outside cars are stranded

like extinct dinosaurs.

Abandoned covered in white.
How elegantly the snow queen
delivers her silent discipline.
Now the wind
wails like a grieving lover
causing the ice frozen
berries and leaves
to gently tinkle
like glass wind chimes

I sit quietly sipping

hot coffee patiently

awaiting spring.

I promise to emulate

the frozen patient trees.

But I this promise

I break by lunchtime.