Thursday, December 20, 2012


The snow came in like a torrent.
Covering every tree limb and beast.
And the wind, as if by warrant,
Searched out every crevice and crease.

But the birds continued to feed,
They’re small, but not in the least frail.
And the cows, a strong highland breed,
Stood contently – backs to the gale.

Our dog Tilly sees her main task
As annoying the cats in the mow.
But sometimes, and without being asked,
She runs out to pester the cows.

I did not see the hens about;
They preferred the warmth of their coop.
Perhaps tomorrow they’ll come out,
(They tend to do things as a group).

And as for my day in the snow –
I busied myself on the farm.
I moved not too fast – not too slow,
Enjoying all this bucolic charm.

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