Even in the Middle of Winter 2021
By Lois Perch Villemaire
I’m here to tell you
I have hopes of spring.
Shades of green will return
to the woods behind our house.
How many times
during these months
have I wandered to the window?
Before leaves fell
from incredibly erect trees
the woods provided a view,
home to many living creatures.
Before Covid I barely noticed.
Now the forest is empty
carpeted by a mosaic of crumpled leaves.
On sunny days reflections
create patterns on the earth.
Up above, delicate branches
criss-cross against blue sky.
Even in the middle of winter,
I tend to plants taken inside
before the frost. Cuttings
of my favorite coleus,
caring for them until spring,
then replanting the survivor
in a pot outdoors to flourish.
Lois Perch Villemaire of Annapolis, Maryland is the author of My Eight Greats (2023) and Eyes at the Edge of the Woods (2024). Her poetry has appeared in Spillwords Press, Verse-Virtual, Third Street Review, and elsewhere. Her flash memoir has been included in anthologies including “I Am My Father’s Daughter.” She is a contributing writer to AARP The Ethel. Lois, a Pushcart nominee researches family history, works at the library, and propagates African violets.
