Perhaps you remember the falling white snow.
The earth was blanketed with mounds and drifts.
I was prepared because I saw the changing sky.
My plans were adjusted for the imminent blizzard.
In the summer I sleep beneath the stars.
Each night I wait for the rising moon.
The autumn is marked by a sense of foreboding.
It takes many days for my shudders to fade.
The spirit of the snow is like the rain.
More powerful than man, they control the earth.
The rain can devastate homes in a flood.
Snow crushes buildings with no mercy.
The simple seasons are each familiar.
I am surprised when I travel to a different climate.
My weather wisdom is no longer valid.
I wait for the snow and only see rain.
W. Wayne B.
Kindle poetry chapbook: Journey Through a Garden
Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb