Winter Poem by Harold R Hunt Sr

Winter
The snow blows across the open fields.
The lake is beginning to freeze.
The plows set still as the snow is falling.
Cars are hard to find them under the white of snow.
People are buying all the bread and milk.
As the only warm place is the fireplace.
The wind it howls an ugly sound as it hits the window with snow.
The door you can't open for its frozen shut till morning.
There will be no school for the roads are closed.
It's so cold the dog doesn't want to go out.
Winter time in N.Y. is such a joy.
That's why I moved south.