Dark and windy
cold and wet,
our winter isn’t
finished quite yet.
A new year blowin’ in
brings gloomy predictions;
yesterday’s soggy bogs have
become quagmires we must
deal with today.
He will save us, we hope; we pray
we are able to save ourselves.
Ominous weather brews;
no one has any clues
where it’s all really headed.
So hang on and hang tough,
the climate of the economy is
as bleak as the weather outside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem