Listen to poem:
Winters Cold
Snow falls silently. Each flake a feather
of pristine white fast-merging in flurries
blanketing steep banks of hardy heather
smothering its scent and bushes buries.
Skin of unpicked pears turn hard as leather.
See, an insomniac squirrel scurries
away home to avoid frost-bitten paws
one last gathered acorn gripped in its jaws
A full moon hangs in an ebony sky
Far below snow turns to sparkling ice.
Foxes stay in their dens and no owls fly.
Nothing is threatened in this paradise
even an old starving stag will not die -
unless shot by hunters who sacrifice
beautiful creatures – just names in their game -
for the thrill of the kill or doubtful fame
The rising sun bathes crystal spikes that thaw
in tears descending to each tip and drip
obeying the process of Nature’s law
or carve sculptures of such skilled craftsmanship
that Michelangelo would stare in awe.
Tiring, day yields to winter’s icy grip
and once again as darkness cloaks the land
deep winter cold regains the upper hand.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
