temperature dropping,
water holes to keep open.
Sleigh horses harnessed,
hay stacked high
frozen skis crunch snow.
Mercury slithers, creeping
down, frosted breath,
feeding rituals double.
These months called winter
everything’s expected,
without warning too often.
The temptation to stay
by the wood fire, warm,
nothing but a fleeting dream.
Every day a silent wish
tromps through the thoughts
yearning for winter to end.
A want for longer days
Chinook winds blow,
snowdrifts dissolve.
Spring and green grass
replaces manure laced mud
frozen days, gone.
To the ranchers feeding
cows and country
thank you for doing chores.
Ann Edall-Robson Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience.” to edit. | Be the first to get all our latest news and updates. |