Tadpole's Outdoor Blog

December 21, 2011

Grand-daughter Bethany with a winter poem

Winter

Winter, oh winter, why are you so cross?

You kiss the crisp sweet autumn wind away,

And send it on the wings of the north blown crest,

You make the sweet chickadee hide its bill against his breast,

Make it hide its face from the world in shame,

For he does not make the long flight from winter,

He is not scared to stay alone, unlike the rest

Winter, oh winter, why are you so cross?

You force your winds upon the white puffs in the sky,

You make them despair so they frown upon the ridges and timbers,

You breathe your wintry chill and make them cry,

Their tears spill upon the barren earth in frigid droplets,

The winds howl with a creaking sigh

Winter oh winter, why are you so cross?

The wise owl’s round orbs shut,

Not to be disturbed in until the white war is over,

It stays hidden until the forest hush,

The pigeon’s wings form a blur,

Flapping, in a rush

Soothing lullaby is the orchestra,

Shifting willows, a cooing thrush

Winter, oh winter, why are you so cross?

The bluebells shrivels and spoils in despair,

They fade to dust at the sound of your name

The bubbly creek has covered itself,

It is now nothing but a blackness, untamed

The creeping fox hides his swishing tail,

His sly nose tip sleeps until woken,

Until springs yellow rays come again

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