The birch trees who even in summer say winter to me
Shivered in the ice laden wind winter is here
The evergreens who usually say what is winter to me
Bent and sagging under snow cried ah winter is here
The winds laden with ice crystals howl and groan
Their trails followed by gauzy scarves of white snow
The voice of winter making the trees creak and moan
The voice ever so dark, raspy, breathy, and low
The dawn crystal-clear not a cloud in the skies
Cold, no tell tail sign of the coming spring
The soft white blanket of snow everywhere lies
But though it is winter my thoughts are of spring
I am not dwelling upon this time so dire
My thoughts are warmer than a roaring fire
For as I drive along they rest upon desire
Not obsessed but thinking on her I never tire