The shroud of dusk tonight is brusque
Its air a bleak, mutinous growl
Of glowering empowering
The gloom dripping from winter’s jowl
Cold, cold the dell where frigid knell
Of bluster-blue incumbency
Deploys dissent; its regiment
A bold, bullying enemy
Somewhere beyond ice-cobbled pond
Where reeds in petrified repose
Wait out its will and grueling chill,
A soft and sweeter zephyr blows
It is the child of Winter-wild
He plays beyond this early dark
Where soon we’ll hear the cherub-cheer
Of children playing in the park
© Janet Martin
Tonight the wind is a roving rebel-rouser; harbinger to
another dumping of snow!
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!