|
It
happens every year..... it comes,
Maybe with a little more than
some.
There are those who call him by name
Old Man Winter, but he's not
always the same.
*
Like a orchestra tuning each instrument
to blend,
Violins, diverse horns, strings, cymbals, and drums pick up the
end.
All work together in a harmonious display
To compose what he shall
bring each
and every day.
*
But we have learned that
the harmony does not always stay in tune.
And we have days that may feel
like
early June.
But for the image of the players, he always tries,
To
live up to his name and conducts
them to the
nigh.
*
The roaring wind from the big tuba
sounds,
To bring our attention, the loud booms abound.
The gray in the sky
may give us indication
of the quiet whisper of the harp.
And with our eyes
toward the sky, we
wait in anticipation
For the fluffy flakes to
embark.
*
Finally he is here without relent,
And the
more he conducts...more compositions are spent.
The players are now aroused
in a fury
Of all that is rendered a flying storm
of
flurries.
*
Old man winter has a concert going
now,
And soon we will need the snow plow.
But lets hold off for a while,
for this
was just a rehearsal.
The real thing will come soon
enough,
For right now, let's call a reversal.
Written by
Shirley Barr
October 17, 2004
All Rights
Reserved
used with permission.
Please visit "Shirley
Barr".
website
of poetry.
|