Winter Road

On a snowy day in December,
when the sun shines barely,
branches of slender birches,
the wind whispers something, joking.

He mumbles about a long winter,
about an unrealizable daring dream.
Maybe about a wonderful spring,
or summer, wonderful, quite!?

Only this winter story,
it gives me ecstasy.
And although, in disorder, now,
Im looking for joy in this, this time.