The winds blow strong and the days grow cold
Just a sample of what this winter will hold
The harvests in and chopped wood stacks
Orange vests in woods looking for a ten point racks
Leaves have fallen, now raked in piles
Caved in pumpkins with distorted smiles
Stark bare trees against a foggy morn
Boots and jacket waiting to be worn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem