Sherry Chandler » 2007 » November » 10
WINTER COMES
Rain was a cold mist slanting across fields,
And driving like nails into woods reluctant
To give up their summer’s work.
But I knew it was winter’s breath commanding;
The trees would soon be beaten;
They would hide in their dormancy
As the gray, old father had his way.
Winter comes to strip the land;
Leaving it naked and crying;
Shivering in pain.
Winter comes to worry the land
To steal its bounty,
And make it old.
—Charles M. Whitt
This post was written by sherry
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