Winter’s work is stilling the world
Freezing the rivers stopping their flow
trees will’ve long since cast off their leaves
to the chattering winds that so often blow

Chill’s tendrils drift seeking a path to annoyance
Windows and walls offering a sure route
Where they play at the ankles chilling the toes
Forcing a conflict, one must drive the cold out

The thermometer stands ready to signal its worry
Heat rises for battle betraying down low
and drifts to on high to huddle near the ceiling
It tries and it tries but has no way to go

Down on the table, a fan sits not turning
Angry for having to so constantly blow
Flipping the switch ends its frustration
spinning and spinning is all it does know

The tendrils draw back or risk annihilation
Heat, stirred by fans work, dives firm in its warming
At that cold laying still on the floor down below
Attacking it in its swirled blend transforming

Comfort returns from the head to the toes
Though outside is bitter in its cold disposition
And winter is still working to lock us away
We sit in our home to wait spring’s emancipation

11/19/2018

Posted on 11/19/2018
Copyright © 2025 Brian Francis