The snow is gently falling
The air is cold as ice,
And the skies are of the deepest grey.
The trees stand bare
Within the woodland,
Their leaves have fallen long ago.
While the birds
That filled each day with joyful song
Have lost their voices.
But as I look out
Upon this bleak, November's morn,
I take comfort in the fact
That you must experience
The worst of the winter,
In order to appreciate
The best of the spring.
2011
It's a smooth poem, flow is wonderful.... I like it very much
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Celebrations and celibacies with the appalling snow..well written...chilled to read...