Verwüstung

O cold winter,

thou doth resemble the sly wolf that creeps on its prey,

waiting for the weak to near you, then you pounce

and tear them to shreds,

no mercy whatsoever.

you steal their lives away silently as

rabbits doth wander cautiously through the woods on padded feet,

no noise to be had.

No chance for tears nor laments,

yet plenty of time for burial; mourning.

Then at funerals you lurk in the air and whistle

away in our ears, shouting over silence that hangs

heavy in the air.

You cause all the plants to fold in on themselves,

bowing to the bitter wind--then what?

Leaves get blown off tree branches and small shrubs

uprooted,

fields of good, marshy land rendered useless with

cold and snow.

Then the peasants starve, and the pagans hide away

in the forest away from you,

devouring their summer food hoards,

except no one can run away from the cold,

no one can hide and hunker down away from the wind,

and all you have done, is bring devastation.

👏👏Nice poem.

Ty