When I returned to Maryland after two decades in warm, sunny Florida, I was constantly told that I would regret my choice come winter. Well, winter sure has come, and while I remain resolute in my reasons for moving, I admit that the persistent shockingly freezing conditions are getting old. This doesn’t motivate me to leave the house, let alone be creative. Even my brain seems frozen in place.

Since I’m unable to just stay inside my warm home until May, I’m turning to people more talented than me for inspiration. It’s notable that two of my favorite songs about winter have local ties. Cass Elliott, who was born here, provided mournful harmonies for The Mamas and The Papas’ “California Dreamin’.” And Counting Crows’ Adam Duritz, also born in Baltimore, wrote the yearning “A Long December,” which is why every time I go to the beach I take a picture with the caption “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean.” Deep seasonal sigh.

This inspired me to reach out to other talented Maryland and Maryland-adjacent poets to ask for their best winter-tinged verse, either spontaneously created or from their collections. These words — thoughtful, poignant or sometimes just kinda goofy — aren’t going to make spring come any faster. But they’re a reminder of the fragile beauty to be found even in the temporary discomfort and promise of the thaw to come.

Apricity

{rare word meaning warmth in winter}

The raw clip of a cold snap

holds me again,

as the ghost of my breath fills the air

A visible haze of winter

But when the icicle drips

wet lick of chill

warmed

bit by bit

I thaw

melt

and slowly begin to feel

again

— Rissa Miller, formerly of Catonsville

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I love that grey glow that flows in

on wintry outside winds

It covers the room like the

blanket I’m tucked in

I write warmly within

I don’t do cold

But something about shivering

makes my words feel bold

They bolt out my mind as I type

They slip and slide

And I hold on tight to an

icy sight

I spit fire through blizzards

And melt the ground like a wizard

— Jasmine Taylor, York, Pennsylvania

A Winter Reflection

My 60 year old bones are feeling this cold. This icy freeze has put a spell on my knees When I step outside the right one starts to ache. There is no mistake that I am aging.

This arctic blast has blown my cover. Cozy winter coats, hats, and boots seem no longer cute.

I need a vacation to a tropical paradise this time next year … Drinking a pina colada out of a pineapple on a beach with smooth warm sand under my feet will help stave off the feeling that I

am getting old.

But, this cold does something quite magical. It’s bitter and blunt. It tells you hard truths when

you want to run away from your present. It talks to your body, and your body talks back. It wakes

you up when all you want to do is go on a long hibernation.

My 60 year old bones are feeling this cold and despite the aches and pains, I like what all the

seasons have brought me to be. Free…

— Colie Aziza, Bowie

I’m visiting DC.

People here say it’s freezy.

I grew up in Albuquerque

Where it’s often warm and breezy.

I now live in Canada with my beautiful fam-lee

We wear toques and snow pants

Staying warm is easy.

— Lynn Filusch, formerly of Montgomery County

Red Bird in Snow

You can choose

to stop short —

or have it

not matter,

not weigh

the brightness,

not hold

very still

and be

known

to yourself

again.

A thing

fills

with exactly

the radiance

you accord it.

— Lia Purpura, Baltimore, from her 2015 collection ”It Shouldn’t Have Been Beautiful"

Snow Day

Yesterday

the first day

School was open

Snow came covered all

We stayed home played in snow

Today filled with sunshine

School bells rang

Science class

Outside

— Patti Ross, Baltimore, written in 2019

These Trees

find themselves alone,

bare and brittle

easier to break,

mirroring our harrowing

meandering in this searing,

this blustery gray

mourning the turn from youth,

as they become new versions

of former selves.

these trees

know grief, know disruption

cascading in an unforgiving

that noisily whistles through

a desolate nakedness,

mocking this insistent

loneliness. these trees

root deep into a hardening,

resisting the inevitable crack

— Khadijah Z. Ali-Coleman, 2023 Poet Laureate of Prince George’s County, written December 2024