The Winter Sky

The winter world is cold—

and withered and old—

the trees droop, still and bare,

in the scathing air,

clothed only in gray loss—

mourning the leaves lately buried with the frost.

But the sky is soft as mother-love

for children wounded of life—

it is older than the cold

and beautifully, gently bold.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s