Winter was the blackest night
And the gray of day
Lady Fern grew ghostly white
The woods stayed red and fey
Winter was a barren bush
Frost on raven wings
The lonesome brrrr of varied thrush
A wren who’s seldom seen
Winter was a snow-capped mount
Plumes of horses’ breath
Fluffy foxes, frozen founts
Alders miming death
Winter was a flooded marsh
Whale calves on the way
Night herons quawking, hoarse and harsh
Bears with naught to say
Winter was an old year’s end
A new beginning, too
And I am grateful, my son, my friend
That I spent both with you
– Dad Commander
(For Bub’s 5th Winter)
This article appears in One School, Nine Students.
