A cold, thick fog slowly drifts across the stubble wheat field,
as the distant echo of a whining eighteen wheeler speeds
down the nearby interstate, sounding its mournful cry.
A large raven loudly caws to its rowdy friends,
notifying them of his discovery of a few hidden
golden grains of abandoned autumn wheat.
On a nearby fence post, a Sparrow Hawk surveys
the wheat stubble for movement of his favorite
prey… the tiny field mouse's last day.
At first, only a few small flakes but now it’s
falling in large, multiple designed white paisley
patterns, and already beginning to cover the
colorless decaying wheat stubble.
As the low hanging fog bank gives way
to a drab grayish sky, my heart sinks with
sadness… as the cold silence of winter has
arrived with all its madness.
No summer breeze, or birds singing in beautiful
green leafed trees.
No blooming plants, butterflies or scampering ants.
No sunshine to warm the heart and soul.
No children playing hop-scotch loud and bold.
Short, gloomy, dismal, dreary days and long,
lonely, cold nights, I must endure.
Loneliness, emptiness, despair, that’s all old man
winter has to offer and I'm sure you can see...
that’s just not fair!