Gloomy, gray skies meet my eyes.
No merry ray to light my way,
No sunny shaft to stir my heart.
Willful Winter blasts and blows.
Wind and sleet and falling snows
Chilly fingers curling down,
One last gasp
One last grasp
King this day is he.
Silvery Spring, though fast asleep,
Yesterday did wear
Daffodil and crocus fair
And robins in her wispy hair.
Silvery Spring, though sleeping deep,
Dreams of the day
That now must keep,
dancing, tender grasses.
One last nap
One last sleep
Slumbering this day is she.
© B. J. Donaldson, 2016, All rights reserved.