The fields become cluttered,
From the harsh prairie breeze
When the leaves change color;
When they fall from the trees
The critters they shiver,
This wicked cold they do hate
These three months can be harsh
Winter determines their fate
Some will seek warmth,
They will hide or migrate
Some will seek shelter
Just to sleep, to hibernate
All the while humans smile,
Throw snowballs and build forts
Bruised elbows from slipping,
And playing winter sports
But during night the wind howls,
It shrieks and it roars
The ground covered with white,
The cold seeps through house doors
So we cover with blankets,
We build big warm fires
Because the cold will grab hold,
As if to squeeze you with pliers
This season is tough
But life manages to get through
Withstanding winter
Not much more you can do
About the Creator
Mitch H
Old soul from the Canadian prairies
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