Poetry © by Diane Taylor
© Webpage by Jilli 1997
All rights Reserved
An Old Man Speaks To Winter
by: Diane Taylor aka catta
As a daughter to her mother,
As a brother to a brother,
As one liar to another,
I can read your scheming mind.
If December days are sunny,
If the air is sweet as honey,
I will wager all my money
Blizzards can't be far behind.
Since September, you've been waiting;
Plotting, planning, agitating.
Now your winds are desecrating
What was left of autumn's wreath.
And tonight, while folks are sleeping,
From the shadows you'll come creeping
With the black north wind a'leaping
You will bare your starry teeth.
While you're raging, I'll retire
cozily beside my fire
As the hungry wind roars higher
With the full moon in its clutch.
If my cabin starts to swaying
You won't find this old man praying -
Why, it's just like I been saying,
Winter - you don't scare ME...much.
As a brother to a brother,
As one liar to another,
I can read your scheming mind.
If December days are sunny,
If the air is sweet as honey,
I will wager all my money
Blizzards can't be far behind.
Since September, you've been waiting;
Plotting, planning, agitating.
Now your winds are desecrating
What was left of autumn's wreath.
And tonight, while folks are sleeping,
From the shadows you'll come creeping
With the black north wind a'leaping
You will bare your starry teeth.
While you're raging, I'll retire
cozily beside my fire
As the hungry wind roars higher
With the full moon in its clutch.
If my cabin starts to swaying
You won't find this old man praying -
Why, it's just like I been saying,
Winter - you don't scare ME...much.