Bitter Cold
What a cold January day,
The frost lays on the ground like a blanket
Not even the determined woodpecker
Has come out to tap on the side of the house.
All is quiet in this small town
The blackbirds pick at the unturned dirt
Hoping to find some kind of food
The sun pokes its head through the clouds
And cast light on the frost bitten earth.
Copyright © Melanie Dickie | Year Posted 2009
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