to the north pole

when did the sun fade?
and these clouds that have settled,
from where do they stretch?
when once the life was green and vibrant
trees tall and strong
now they droop and weep
closing in on this frozen ground
filtering through a scale of gray
if I could box this up and send it off
i would
send it to the north pole
where I believe it belongs

the only thing I can box
are a few personal items
my thoughts are not those
they aren't my own
but if I could box them
I would
categorize and organize
alphabetize and synchronize
I would
box them and send them to the north pole

far away I would send them
so the riddles wouldn't rattle at night
and rock my body to wake
stealing such sweet dreams without asking
stealing what's mine
and replacing with fear
oh, how I wish I could box them
I would
label and address them
and send them to the north pole

oh, how I'd like to transport
this grief and vexation
pack it and ship it
bury what is rotten
and pluck what is ripe
I would
but is not all of it ripe?
isn't each fragrant rose
a blossom of a thorn
and each succulent berry
the bearings of a withered bush?
the north pole must be in need
of berries and blossoms
so I'll box them up
and send them to there
I would
no, I will

but wait
still, you remind me
that a season is a season
is a season is a season
thank goodness there are four
so we might enjoy
not one, but four
boxing them for us
to keep and to cherish
not ship what is ours
to a land far away
for we know to whom they belong
our thoughts, an omen of truth
our fears, a reflection of perfect symmetry
and our thorns, which bear a fragrant blossom
so let us box them up
and send them back
to us