Winter is the world's long sleep,
In which the soil gets its rest,
Naked 'neath its blanket white,
Tucked in for the frigid night,
Earth by bitter north wind blessed,
Restored to life by slumber deep.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon
Winter howls like winds or wolves or weeping,
Inviting us to witness pain and death.
No truth can better penetrate the shell
That insulates our empathy so well,
Essence of the entropy of breath
Returning us to one another's keeping.
