Winter comes calling
in seasonal garb
displaying her frost
o'er yesterdays
once sun~lit yard.
Autumn has parted
leaving branches now bare
sprawling cross space
sweeping upward
through her misty, gray hair.
Landscapes
she's dressed them
in holiday fare
eighteen degrees
creates bone chilling air.
On hustle,
on bustle
decorate trees with a flare
shopping is frantic
with 3 days to spare.
Stockings are hung
there's presents galore
sipping warm cider...
I suddenly hear,
'Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
12/14/2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem