Winter is a Little Time of Life

  

  

  

So, just in case we've forgotten...

The shawl that drapes white- soft on scraggly limb,

And lends its cape to cover field and hill

And locks the valley streams that lilt and brim

With silver song, beneath ice-soldered will

…the gale that wails across pale countryside

And roars, blue-lipped through brittle barrenness

Or lunges at each door and tries to find

Its way into our bones with brute caress

…the corpse-like timberland, where stiffly starched

Attendants observe, sergeant-steely-stern

Our creaking, squeaking footsteps bravely marched

Toward the hearth where dreams and fires burn

…the hunger for color and corridors

Alive with birdsong, where the air is rife

With everything that long we waited for

…is really but a little time of life

© Janet Martin

Hubby delivered cattle to a cheery, lithe-stepped farmer this morning. In a mischievous effort to derail this far-too-happy-for-a-raw-winter-morning farmer, hubby remarked about’ this too long too cold winter’ and Farmer quickly replied that “this cold is really but a little time of life when you stop to think about it, plus it is so good for the earth to rest in deep-freeze. We have snow blowers to move the snow. It’s not so bad”