Northern Life Poem by John Farthing

They fall to the ground,
They fall all around;

White flakes of snow,
From the heavens, they blow;

Roof tops of brown,
Can no longer be found;

Trees once of green,
No where can be seen;

Chimneys of smoke,
So strong, one could choke;

Reach up to the sky,
To show we're alive;

It's awsome to see,
The majestic pine trees;

The coldness you'll feel,
From your head to your heels;

Some people say,
Your a fool, if you stay;

Others won't leave,
Even though they might freeze;

It's small and it's quaint,
L.A. it sure aint;

But we call it home,
Where the deer freely roam;

It's better by far,
With a whole lot less cars;

So you'll want to stay,
In Susanville, C.A........

By John Farthing