WINTER
Autumn’s colored splendor
fades away.
It’s coming; I hear the north
wind’s song.
Bare branches stand against a
canvas gray.
Days shorten; nights become
too long.
Cool, crisp, sharp, raw,
blue.
Varied harshness marks its
passing here.
Weak ones sometimes do not
make it through.
At times, it also brings the
strongest fear.
Blinding brightness – Snow is
on the ground.
Icy crystals bend the straining
bough.
Silence broken by its
tinkling sound.
Surreal, it manifests its
beauty now.
The rudeness of its entrance
dims at last
Warming gentle breezes bathe,
heal.
God’s paints upon this dismal
scene are cast.
From dormancy, a new life to
reveal.
Dennis Price
No comments:
Post a Comment
I encourage your comments. Keep the language civil and you will be published.