In Winter
The wind howls, doleful as the lone wolf
The only birds that circle round are
black and laden with death
All the others have gone south
for brighter days with the sun.
In Winter
Clouds once filled with gaiety and light
lose their merriness
Growing dark and groaning heavily
Burdened with loads of furious rain and
apathetic snow.
In Winter
The fox gains prominent ribs
slinking silently through mazes of fallen branches
back to a barren den
No rabbits can be found
their fur has blended in with panoramic white.

*With all that’s dark, chaotic, and alone
There’s question whether such a time will end
It’s rather easy to forget
that Spring is just around the bend.