Winter Snapshot Poem by Jean Renwick

One Winter’s morn as I went walking
In bitter wind and snow a-falling
I met a man with bearded cheeks
A rumpled coat and swag.

He said to me ‘The birds are calling
For spring, and the cold is palling.’
I replied to him ‘Soon buds will peek
From under dirt, slush and crag.’

He wasn’t much one for talking
We went our ways, indifference calling.
I found destination at the creek
And settled there with lunch and bag.