Winter Poem by Daniel Y.

Winter



The Forest puts on her white, snow-coat,
to keep her warm and dry.
Quiet.
The bird calls no more.
A lone rabbit, scavenging through
her wilted gardens.
Winter is a starving wolf.
Filled with mangy hunger.
The cold hunter runs after me.
Running.
Running me down.
He will catch me.
He will eat me.
The frost bites my shoeless feet
and branches poke my eyes.
A cabin waits in the heart of the woods.
The Forest dries off by the fire.
Waiting to brush her green hair.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Daniel Brick 10 February 2014

I like poems that express the seasons. There is something effortless symbolic about the seasons. As in your WINTER: you present a variety of images of winter cold and discomfort, but also include the personification especially evocative in the last two lines with the Forest acting just like a woman! In the middle of the poem you dramatize the survival theme as hunger stalks the landscape. I've seen emaciated deer during some severe winters, it's a sad sight. I'm something of a seasonal poet; autumn in particular inspires my poems, but after reading your take on winter I'm encouraged to add my one winter poem to my sight! I also just read your poem about a #2 pencil: both clever and poignant - you wrote a homage for all the stories that don't get written because no writer is present or no incentive is pushing the writer.

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