Winter

Winters’ fury sets her sights
then spread her hand with much delight
So flurries like the pouring rain
would rip from those of silver stain

Then mountain tops of fresh white snow
would peek down on what lay below
and though untouched by show of night
would not be so come morning light

Each tree would glisten in the morn
with vengeance of that winter storm
A blanket over grass of green
as far as eyes had ever seen

She told each lake and stream be still
while plants and flowers felt her chill
Her woes of soft sweet bitter sting
in every line she’d fiercely sing

With whistle in the wind she flew
determined so to see it through
but those who read between the lines
were wise enough to heed the signs

They battened down before she woke
and paid attention when she spoke
She pounded doors to no avail
commanding all would hear her tale

and though she made the history books
with every humble roof she took
She wrote a story greater still
by show of hands through mans good will
For neighbors took the highest road...
by helping others bear her load.

Deo Volente
February 2, 2009