Winter's Weight
. for public domain
Near the end of Winter,
When our footsteps melt in wet snow,
the long drawn paths of pleasant seasons,
lead us toward fair ways to go.
And memories fade of the chill and the cold,
and children play in the field,
harvest time comes, and machines hit the rows,
collecting what our planting will yield,
and yet throughout, on a porch on a swing,
I brood upon challenges Winter will bring,
and whether my bones will weather the cost
of friends who have passed, and loves I have lost.
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