Poem: Winter Calls


As I gaze out my window warm,

I see the first signs of winter arrive.

The trees sway naked in the cold,

dancing to Old Man Winter’s jive.

Their cousins have long flown south,

a few birds remain to hunt for food.

Squirrels horde pine cone snacks,

to feed their furry family brood.

I ponder the yearly cycle of life,

from hot to cold and hot again.

As soon as one’s bones adjust to change,

it is retailer’s pockets that clearly win.

How many more change of seasons,

this old body will witness is unsure.

Unless our lab rat masters of science,

figure out a Fountain of Youth cure.

Still, I enjoy the challenge of climate,

for struggle makes life worth living.

Otherwise, we are but passive creatures,

only existing in life, not giving.





#poetry #satire #nature #life #weather #season #age

Poem by David Andre Davison


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