The sun has not shown for at least 5 days
An endless march of low gray clouds
Links the barren horizons
My old dog looks through the glass door
Labors to get up tuns twice and half falls back to the floor.
It is late Winter she will not see the Spring.
Yet she is still defiant rolling shamelessly in the last snow
Looking up with great anticipation
What’s next I think she wondered
The burden of this season
Is clearly mine to bear
As I look through the glass door
The conclusion is inescapable
Winter is a good time to move on my old friend
When all that is left are our footprints
Frozen in the ice
Which can speak only of the past.
c coleman