Rain Storm In Winter
The aura of the oak
is ice and silver sheen.
This is the season of snow,
but there is only cold rain
in heavy ringlets of wet.
We feel the chill
of this antique place,
yet for now, snow abstains
as skies burn ripe with gray ash
that scatters to the wand of wind.
Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2006
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment