Grass, a frosty white
The chill, filling my sight
Crunching beneath my feet
From the cold no retreat
Nose hairs freezing within
As my mourning trek, I begin
A cloud forms before me
As I exhale, my breath I see
I stop and stare
Of my presence, unaware
Deers foraging below
Before the oncoming snow
No sun shining bright
Sky covered with clouds, heavy and white
Impending storm to come
To the inevitability, I succumb
Grasping my mourning paper, I retreat
As my journey, I complete
Back within, I hurry
As the snow starts to flurry
Unbundled, sitting by the fire
A warm cup of coffee, I desire
Aroma fills my nose
As the dripping slows
Hurriedly filling my mug
The warmth, a powerful drug
Hot liquid, radiating inside
As my chills start to subside
Giving thanks, I pray
Blessed with another day
Sitting quietly in my chair
From winter, safe within my lair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem