Spring Unclaimed

Walking through corn fields of frozen dead stalks
up to the hills, the rotting apples lying unclaimed
many deer tracks cover these meadows, the old
orchards are graveyard silent as a lone crow calls.

Another cold and hazy winter of dark gray skies
winds blowing snow through the bare oak trees
off to the east a train whistle is heard by the river
my thermos of hot coffee warming cold hands.

Truly blessed, as we have so much to be thankful,
watching chickadees and jays flutter in pine boughs.
Two squirrels as they race down the old stonewall
as falling snowflakes land softly upon my cheek.

Days of Thanksgiving and Christmas are gone now,
the winter solstice whispers in a soft, dying voice.
we love a lazy long hike along a worn forest paths.
Taking a little time to skip rocks on the frozen pond.

A knitted hat and mittens are so very welcome,
Grandmother made them years ago, cherished now.
The winter smiling it's last, spring waits, unclaimed.
A blessed day in late winter, spent here on the plains.