Treasure Island

Nero CaroZiv


Winter


Frigid winter, icicles hang by gutter and by outside wall
A shepherd gathers his flocks off a windy down hill into a dale
Who would brave the storm and bear logs into the cold hall,
And milk with no honey comes frozen home in a pail,
Fingers numb, blood is nipping, the gust is howling in ways to be foul,
At early night hours sings the wide eyes staring owl,



Outside all aloud the wind does whirl and blow,
When human coughing drowns one's laboring saw,
On barren boughs birds sit brooding above the deep snow,
The frost grabs and bits and people nose looks red and raw
As a broiling soap does hiss in the red hot bowl,
The hot pot is handled with a cold towel



The sun barely there; the moon hides the stars with blanket clouds; dark hills and plains
Winter kingdom is all over in grip and in reign
All is closed and doomed with no soul with no sound of rejoice
But the gusting wind and iron frigid boughs tapping sound and hungry wolf howling in remote voice
No light in this oppressing darkness, no fume no torch in the gloom
Is this world ever waken, do these trees ever bloom


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Submitted: Sunday, January 12, 2014
Edited: Monday, January 13, 2014
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