Peter S. Quinn

Times are drifting here by in their gray
In memories of colors they once were
Everything in bleakish dive deter
That once showed freshness of its early May
Each day becoming blacker than before
Leaving no precipitation unaffected
Through winter's chilliness and frost injected
Nothing in this temper will stand for more

The snow is falling to the frozen ground
One by one snowflakes plunge and quiver
Everywhere around the white earth glows

Summer tones of yesteryear have drowned
In the temporal icily silver
That at the moment briskly throughout blows