Winter Poem by Paul Reed

Winter, you have lain on my garden
Clumped soil and split frame,
Made soft landing place harden
Frosted glass and played icy game;

Made the branch leafless and bare
Stolen the evening gleam,
Stabbed lung with embittered air
Picked at the threads of summer dreams;

What divine call do you ever hear?
What goads you to enter the fold?
Do you stand over green meadows and leer?
Relishing that the blood will run cold?

Do you live in a cavern dark
With no thrill or glow to befriend
With light just a solitary spark
For the sunny day to end