Gripped within the jaws of bitter cold; Betwixt the Equinox of Winter and of Spring; When Earth her mantle, In frozen form lays down And leaden skies move across eastern soil ; The wind,afresh, torments The slender trees; The door it rattles And the signal comes; Steeled ,the weathervane turns anew; Precariously, it points to unknown sights The garden,hauntingly now is stilled; The high banks,protection graciously afford; The earth awaits the snow that still may come Reminding that winter’s chains are nailed and riven.
Ruth Partridge 