New Poem for Winter

Here's a poem I just wrote that seems to reach back to my boyhood spent in the long winters of Wyoming.

Seasons

These were the clean white prairies of your birth.

So much winter for the picture window,

Snowflakes that mirror the likeness of mirth,

Your heart’s soil is a cup overflown

With silver ladling of her country laugh.

How her green shoot of a boy from the white

Reminded her of the long year’s green half.

Horses rage beyond the snow, beyond night.

Is the picture window a darkened mirror

Tonight? What tall figure’s shape strides within? 

Youth’s years have gone. Age’s autumn is here

And September’s grim harvest must begin.

Will you give him a coin for the final

Crossing, or leap the fire of fondest sin?