Winter’s chill winds again, and the birds
wing silently through the white pine trees
searching the snow for food, scratching the ground
when they find signs of sustenance.
A blanket of whiteness deadens my footsteps
but seems to sharpen the whistling of the wind,
and is raised and gathered into gusts that rage
shrill and stinging against the trunks of the trees.
Like a cold steel knife
winter bites icily into the cracked bark,
and the forest sways,
but with proud fortitude,
for winter is a hard taskmaster,
but fiercely beautiful.
beautiful write......... forest in winter.......... delicate and well penned. Thank you for your kind sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful write......... forest in winter.......... delicate and well penned. Thank you for your kind sharing.