Winter

At the onslaught of winter stripped of their possessions trees stand in silent prayer. Grey clouds hang low just above the black trees as if to kiss them goodbye The milky white glow of moon creates a longing Is it possible to reach out to unknown? I get not answer in that cold and still night. Flowers huddled together still spread their fragrance Soon the merciless frost of winter will kill the bloom. Gofers in my backyard have created mounds of dirt to settle deep in warm earth. From my kitchen I watch a little spider trying to sneak through the kitchen door. It spreads a chill in my spine. When and where life will close its door upon us? In the rush of life the question gets pushed aside Like the unopened junk mail I turn my thoughts to burning flames of fireplace. The warmth of life circulates in room with an orange glow Come spring life will shower again its grace upon my back yard Returning with flowers, fruits and leaves.