A Farmer's Comfort

I felt the gasp of winter's breath

that dreary day on Halloween.

The omens that bespoke the death

of summer; bleeding, dying leaves

were torn from the skeletal trees.

The cows were lying by the hedge

of the field contently, I could see.

Not troubled by the chilling breeze

that tried to tear the face from me.

​

I looked across the valley grim.

My home was shrouded by the rain.

The drizzle turned the evening dim

and sombre, but for a warm glow;

a candle burned by my window.

I ached with longing for the warmth

of a roaring fire and a cup of tea.

A musty book, perhaps a rug,

to make this bitter night more snug.

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