Mother Nature Can Be Fickle

 

Winter’s cold is Mother Nature’s way

Of saying, lie with me now, lay your head on my breast

It’s snow, a blanket under which to lay

Neath a crystal cover, enjoying winter’s cold caress

Frost rimed windows … Mother Nature’s art

Icy abstractions painted with frosty finesse

Crystalline concoctions that form only a part

Of Mother Natures wonderful winter largesse

Ice coated limbs of slope shouldered trees

droop drowsily down as if fallen asleep

Unable to sway in winter’s frigid breeze

Appear as white mounds, when the snow drifts deep

The stillness one hears on cold winter nights

Broken by the sudden crack of ice laden boughs

The ethereal essence of undulating northern lights

Headlights in the sky for Nature’s snowplows

All is withdrawn, in awe of Nature’s might

Willingly waiting, deep neath frozen ground

Safely sequestered, from winter’s cruel bite

In warm tunnels and burrows, til spring comes around

Mother Nature invites winter into her domain Cohabits with coldness, wantonly sleeps with Jack frost

Yet finds cold winter quickly falls to disdain

Invites in the spring…and tells winter to get lost

Mother Nature is fickle…and also the boss!

David Whalen