Snow, deep and glistening white,
Covers my land tonight;
But in my heart there is no
Ice or snow,
For I can trace the pattern
Where the rose vines cling and grow
Against the garden wall,
And mark the spot where petals fall,
A yellow mass, enriching garden loam.
And in the lane below the old home
Place, the spicy honeysuckle blooms,
And lilacs flaunt their plumes
Beside the gate.
Plump pigeons coo in eaves of the old barn.
A frightened rabbit darts into the green corn
Field. The deep woods yield
Blue-berries, lush and ripe.
The old striped tiger cat
Stretches upon the cistern rock to sun
The warbling of bird choirs has begun
Along the river’s edge.
A brown wren nests within the ragged hedge.
And in the garden, near the hour glass
With its restless, trickling sand,
I bend with trowel and seed packet in my hand!
FARM JOURNAL & FARMER’S WIFE