The Fan.. Poem by Connetta Jean

Deep into winter
under blankets of snow..
Nature lays resting
taking time not to grow.
With grey skies above and
the white all around
Father time's dancing
His dance on the ground.
He's painting fine pictures
of Nature frozen and still
as he outlines the red barn
sitting high on a hill.
Mother Nature's content
to let the Old man
Paint His winter portraits
(she's his biggest fan)

all poems posted on this site are by connetta jean