Seduction

There’s flirtation
in the intermittent swoops and swirls
of falling flakes
outside my window,
as the day stands still,
and winter begins to seduce me
beneath its gathering sheets
of white,
filling me first
with the softness of silence,
then a guilty sense
of giddy play,
and in a momentary fantasy
of whitewashed sins,
I forgive the stinging bite of wind
and the frightening touch
of hidden ice

by Joan Kantor

Editor’s Note: The play of imagery and alliteration in this poem carefully nudges the reader towards the last three lines’ brilliant address.