Giving Way to Old Man Winter

Caelus is now hauntingly dark,
Stark clouds roil with rain
As Sol boils with jealous pain;
Trees strain against the wind,
And bend and bow their heads;
Flower beds ready themselves
For the coming blow, the show
Of storm crow of Tempestas;
Birds nestle down and squirrels
Scurry and chipmunks hurry
To their holes, sole homes
Of hopeful safety; there is
Nothing dainty here happening
. . . It’s Old Man Winter!


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