Winter is

by Natalie Marino

when the mother is 

a gray window, 

when 

the morning’s mood is            

a hole in the sky,

when 

only the hills in dreams 

are gold.

The mother eats 

the color yellow 

and 

swallows God.

Covering her face

with intricacy 

she waits for lavender, 

for hyacinth, 

for butterfly weed, 

and flying bees, 

for her children

to know the spring.

---

Natalie Marino is a poet and physician. Her work appears in Bitter Oleander, EcoTheo Review, Leon Literary Review, Midway Journal, Shelia-Na-Gig online, The Shore, The UCity Review, Variant Literature, and elsewhere. Her poetry was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. She lives in California.