The Cold That Comes

Summary

"The Cold That Comes" is a poem about the speaker's struggle with the changing seasons and their desire to adapt like water, trees, and their loved one.

Abstract

"The Cold That Comes" is a poem by Pernoste & A. Dahl that explores the speaker's struggle with the changing seasons and their desire to adapt like water, trees, and their loved one. The poem is divided into six sections, each separated by a symbol, and is accompanied by an audio reading and an image of a tree. The speaker expresses their preference for the warmth of spring and summer and their resistance to the lessons of the changing seasons. They compare their loved one to clear water, admiring their adaptability and resilience. The speaker also admires the trees for their resilience and patience, wondering if they fear the cold of winter. The poem ends with the speaker expressing their regret for not being stronger and easier, having spent too many winters frozen and unloved. They promise to try to be strong and beautiful for their loved one, even if they lose them.

Opinions

The speaker prefers the warmth of spring and summer to the cold of fall and winter.
The speaker admires their loved one for their adaptability and resilience.
The speaker admires the trees for their resilience and patience.
The speaker regrets not being stronger and easier, having spent too many winters frozen and unloved.
The speaker promises to try to be strong and beautiful for their loved one, even if they lose them.

a poem with an audio reading by A. Dahl

Image by Pernoste; Poem by Pernoste & Dahl

The cold that comes

It’s better in dreams where spring and summer live, where the warm poetry of life desires itself true, and I can breathe deep the scent of morning glories. There are times to fly and live and to cry, to marshal our strengths to find our way in life, or to lose ourselves in silent mists of reverie. I feel the seasons deeply, within and without, but I resist their relentless yearly lessons.

— — — — — -∰ — — — — —

You, to me, are like the clearest of waters, pure and clean, adaptable to any circumstance, whether river-flowed, rain-fallen, or winter-frozen. But the changes of fall and winter are cruel to me, taking away the sunlight and green of my gardens. I must steel myself well for summer’s ending, and prepare to be cold again in my bones. I try to be adaptable, like water, like trees, like you.

— — — — — -∰ — — — — —

The trees are not fooled by the October sun, still releasing their last fingers of leaves to the wind to clutch and blanket the cooling damp earth. I try to have their resilience, their patience. as they undress for their winter slumber. Are they certain they will awaken in the spring greener than ever and warm in the sun, or do they fear the cold that sleep brings?

— — — — — ∰ — — — — —

Is it faith that keeps tree branches raised as if in kind obedience to the heavens above? Is it love that puts your arms around me… and your patience that keeps them there? Worry not that I cannot forget, the things I must, though the cold seasons force me into memories. Faith I have, and hope, and kindness, I know, and a desire only to laugh and love with you.

— — — — — ∰ — — — — —

There’s no need to cheer my winter with flowers. You give me roses and roses and roses until spring, but I’d prefer those flowers hold onto their roots and live anchored where they were, in the sun. My sad envy of them is a small price to pay to enjoy thoughts of flowers growing and warm. I think that it is a happy thing to be a rose even though, like me, their thorns can prick.

— — — — — ∰ — — — — —

The old man who lives next door to us thrives the days all year around, I see, now walking the morning chill, ruddy-faced, smiling, in his jacket and boots, uncaring of the wind. Where does he go, returning each purpling eve? I admire the old man’s resilience, and I would ask him how many footsteps it is to find the peace he has. I’m well on my way there, I think sometimes.

— — — — — ∰ — — — — —

I’m sorry to not be stronger, my love, and easier. I spent too many winters frozen to the marrow, unseen, not wanted, and unloved by anyone. It’s for you that I try to be strong of heart, completely beautiful for you, inside and out, and grateful and kind and a-light with laughter. Even if it comes that I lose you, that you tire of me, I will still love you … especially in my winter dreams.