A Chicago Winter

A Chicago winter induces a collective withdrawl.
A lack of sunlight forms a void; an absence of the life force that surged through our bodies in warmer months.
One only hopes they've absorbed enough of that sweet, smiling light to remain charged through five months of darkness.
Those of us who are drained before winter's end, however, endure the darkness with numb fingers and numb thoughts.

Those of us who are born into this life of half dark, half light can sense the change coming,
It is a light switch being flipped off
We can feel the exact moment of season's change as the approaching bleakness swallows the energy out of the sky.
Natives may bow their heads, if only for a fleeting moment, to mourn the loss of the sun.
Its captor; the gray beast that is a Chicago winter.

Why do we stay? outsiders ask. How do we stand living in this depressive place?
I answer with this; each person has two halves that make them whole
One half light
One half dark
Those of us who stay can understand

We've learned to embrace the cloud-covered darkness
fully aware that, when those first spring rays hit our pale, chapped faces
Blinded, we will initially wish them away.