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Field of Icy Cold
January 16, 2011
I look across a field once gold
Where calves once played and deer prances round.
Now bitter in the icy cold,
Save wind I hear but naught a sound.
The birds had sung, the flowers grown,
The grass outnumbered all my dreams.
I wander that field now alone
The picture isn't all it seems.
Below the cold dark dreary earth
The birds will come again to sing.
Again the field will show it's worth,
The land will turn again to spring.
© Anton J., Philadelphia, PA
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