Lorna

There\'s a Kind of Hush

Shhhhhhh.... the ground is sleeping

Pulling up its cover of snow

The squirrels are creeping

The birds are silent

They do not sing

While the garden snoozes

Yet again

Loses its hope of Spring

Retreats under blankets

Winter\'s last prank

Good for lovers

But a tired game

A little lame

No laughter

Till Spring can prove itself

The Master