Winter Wind
It's howling voice plays in my ear,
While I feel it's nibble at my face.
For sure, in this, there's little to cheer,
Lest at morrows sun,
I awake to find no trace.
It caroms at me from a nor-west angle,
A hitchhiker, intermittent sleet, is felt.
As if pronouncing to me, "let's wrangle",
But soon I know it's fate will be,
To lie aground and melt.
In mind, I've queried from whence it came,
And again, when absent, where did it go?
Why God chose wind for it's name?
Albeit my eye has never seen,
It's effect, I surely know. *
John 3:8
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