“Winter Man”
by Joe Thomas

Winter, when men’s thoughts
Are less entertained by summer’s fruitful enticements
And more by the lure of attraction to baser things.
Oh that the liberty of summer
Would open its doors for the mind
To be free to the physical impulse of greener occupation
And not bound by the impulse of a corrupt and carnal mind.
It is the carnal mind that drives the thinking of the winter man
To a warmer bed and satisfying companionship.

Companionship is the bedfellow of seduction;
To wit, the satisfaction of fantasy’s pleasure.
Desire is first conceived in the innocence
Of a passing glance, eloquent voice, and limpid eye.
Hence the sowing of the thought of more than just the casual,
But the curiosity of the forbidden
—the glorious conquest of a successful campaign
—it is the anchor of vain ruin.

Sowing that dead seed reaps the beginnings of regret
For upon negotiating the obstacle of reason,
Once overcome, the choice of return is most inconvenient.
A compass which azimuth points nowhere but down.

Convenient is the practice of perpetuating winter’s muse
By the primitive exercise of the unbridled mind.

Less convenient is the re-introduction,
Or salutation, if you will,
To the identity of the former person,
Clothed in propriety and obligation.
Nameless now, and faceless.

Winter’s identity is subtle, and cold, as the season is itself.
And, as the season begs for renewal, so does the soul of the winter man.
But yet, while it is winter,
The door is barred by the coldness of retreat.

Melt away this conscience of ice and return it to its cognate virtue.
Make soft again from hardness a heart,
Appearing dead which has forgotten the pulse that quickens the body.