Winter 

In Winter’s Snow so deep 

I feel my legs slow to a creep

As I walk toward, just toward something

Something, or someone maybe.

Maybe I walk toward the truth

Written in your gray skies

The branches tell their story

Writing, writing.

Only a language you can understand

Written In a beautiful calligrapher’s hand.

Winter, you show the truth 

Behind what lies 

The bare truth, the harsh truth,

the unpleasant truth.

There is beauty in the truth.

It  is easy to find It is a gift in the heart

of all mankind.