In winter’s white
The open field is swallowed in a foot of snow
Another and another falls
Till nothing on horizon shows.
Then antler disappears, though buck stands six feet tall
And bull a breadth beyond that height–
The world outside is very white.
Then quick return to hearth and home
The blankets beckon, no more you roam.
Till spring melts in a river flow
And summer flowers bow down low.