Blue Sun Poem by Achim Wollscheid

animals scurry away
because winter's coming again.
the ground is white
and wet with crystal snow.
the trees no longer grow,
but wither.
eyes see a blue sun,
frozen in the sky,
that slowly passes
over the mountains
to rest.

some laugh and run
while others sleep and turn
in bed.
i personally
have a cup of tea,
warm,
so that my tongue doesn't burn.
i eat, and i do sleep
of course,
but i simply cannot play,
not on such a day.
there is no color out
that perks me up,
just whites and dirty greys.
the animals
that prance and perform
usually make me smile,
but where are they?
they have hidden away?

what is one to do
with a day such as this,
until the vibrance of the spring
becomes conspicuous?