That Silver Lining
When the days grow shorter, the woods are solid gray,
that old sun hides his face and won't come out to play;
When tree branches are bare, grass turns to dirty brown,
flowers wilt, fade away, no hummingbirds abound;
When heavy coats come out, snowflakes begin to fall,
water freezes on ponds, dreary dread comes to call;
That's when wonders appear in the stillness of night,
icy sleeves on bare branches, sparkling winter delight.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
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