A Season of Cold
old man winters wrath is upon us now
arctic winds howl 'neath frosty boughs
snowy frozen vistas glisten like stars
chimneys have become smoking cigars
a cold sun rises with welcome rays
whitewashing time in a bright glaze
pothole footprints are scattered about
like deserted hoofprints marking a route
leafless trees line the hills and skies
barren and lifeless in there disguise
under a whitened full moon I shiver
while I traverse crystalline slivers
of frigid nether regions all around
where February prizes her crown
poem by Doug Jones
Added by Poetry Lover
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