The best weather people in all of the world
wouldn't predict a scene with such a sheen
on calm sea waters mirroring the clear sky
with bright banks of fluffy clouds behind,
and virgin snow in white on a low sea wall
that runs straight beside the long walkway
framing a panorama of a once off painting.
Nature showing herself in a peaceful mood
while blizzards blow and snow drifts grow
elsewhere up the country and in city places;
it will be said by the météo 'we told you so'
regarding icy chills from Siberia in the East,
everywhere like the Red Square in Moscow
and so we shout 'Lord save us or we perish'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i'm glad to see a 'new' poem. i like it, but i don't understand the second to the last line. that's ok. bri ;)
Thanks Bri. for having me check and on reading it again I find that 'St Peter's Square' should read 'Russian Red Square'. Thanks for your interest and kind comments.