Winter Poem by Roger A. Rose

Winter



O the damned white of winters cloak
and the biting winds of 'Northers soak
into the skin and into deepest soul
of those who brave the coldest howl
that crack naked limbs of sturdy oak.

Fingers freeze and feet grow numb,
blood courses slowly and senses dumb
when the insidious cold does penetrate.
O to be indoors, and to ever concentrate
on staying warm by fires crackling hum.

When the numbed members start to thaw
and coldest thoughts have turned to awe
of the cheery warming glow of the fire,
thinking of far-off spring arouses ire
of long cold winters and natures law.

Thursday, January 1, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: thoughts
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Roger A. Rose

Roger A. Rose

Madrid, Iowa
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