Poetry | Winter demands rest

By Grace DeLallo, Assistant Opinions Editor

Hush, rest, please close your eyes. 

The spring leaves have fallen

And now they peacefully lie. 

They’ve begun to decay and make way for later prospering life.

Which is nice and necessary, yes, but

The algidity of the atmosphere is suffocating, 

And my body feels tight. 

Vitality is tethered to the Sun,

But her attention is torn to the Earth’s other half, 

Leaving me cloaked in seemingly perpetual darkness. 


It’s bitterly cold and my nose is bright,

Shaded like fresh primrose, sprinkled with ivory flakes, 

It’s beautiful, but something screams, 



But in the depths of frigidity, who beckons to me but her Majesty. 

Who lures me out of my fluorescent material confinement. 

She reaches out to me,

Stroking my rosy face with glistening, glacial fingers.

My body shutters at the initial icy touch.

She assures me that I’ll acclimate — just breathe into my lungs.

Winter cradles my body in her tender, frigid arms 

And I succumb.

My blood cools and our heart beats slow and sync.

As she draps me in her delicate, maternal touch.

She urges me to sleep, sleep, sleep 

Singing gentle whispering songs. 

Harrowing and haunting as 

Barren black walnuts, red maples, river birches are strummed. 

A symphony to serenade me into slumber 

My eyelids begin to flutter, 

Eventually submitting to the snowflakes’ weight. 

They coat my wispy eyelashes and settle onto gentle strands of hair. 

I melt into her embrace, but wait…

What is that I hear from beyond?






I am confused. 

Why does she demand I rest when they demand I move? 

She says to be, not to do. 

But what does that mean? 

Please, how do I stop when I am forced to?


The bees reside in their insulated hives 

And sustain off of the amber honey they worked so hard to produce. 

They now deservingly bask in their affluent lives.

The bears spent the autumn fattening themselves with salmon and berries,

Storing fat to use while they sleep. 

The squirrels reside in trees with bellies full of acorns and hickory nuts,

Dreaming of Spring’s bounty. 

I would like to join. 


Fastidious tendencies are now to be forgotten.

For how can we do so much when the Sun seldom shows? 

She’s our energy, regulating our rhythm, 

But now I am comforted by the cold

And I must sleep. 

Please, I’d like to sleep; 

She urges me to sleep. 

Like a Nordic mother 

Placing her baby, dressed in wool and down,

To sleep in the silvery stillness

Requiring me to rest. 


From beyond the metropolitan’s booming calls, 

I push aside those buzzing voices, 

That demand I not listen to her,

And push, push, push 

Beyond what I am capable of, 

Beyond what she allows of me. 

I will not disobey her. 

For Winter demands rest. 

Therefore I sleep.