winter winds

do you know why the haggard winds blow through these forests
why the tees bend as if bowing before a lord?
"nature!", it's said, "nature!", as if all reas'ning shouts, "humbug!
on the mounds of frigid meadows awaiting summer's return

the prince of winter crawls through the fields of tight trees and homes
searching for entry where a once open wedge or door sought closure
against the butts of brazen skunks losing gas with fetid stench
covering what one would not smell except at night, in the moving dark

winds, you turn the twisters of autumn toward the barren-blank of spring
covering the fields with cycled whiteness that the winter-wife has blown

walk on! walk past the snow drifts lifting tiny vessels from their piles
and throw the white ghosts cross the lawns and fields expansive space
wanting someone to sneak by, wrapped in a cloak of protective veils
warm as warm can be when chilled near the evening's fire