In Our Kind Of Cold Poem by George Samuel

In our kind of cold
Burning is all winter hold
The cold blows in the breeze
Float ashes in the air
And the fire goes on and on
Behind our backyard
The flames flies
And fire ashes in the skies
Mingled with dusty smoke
In the desert where the water had moved on
In our kind of cold
The cattle men return to the east
Where they would spend winter twice
And early before the gathering clouds arise
To roam again beyond the flood
No sow but dew
The sailors labored for little dues
And sail through winter waves
And there their winter ways they pave
All in our kind of cold