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About the Poem

After twenty years in California, I was poorly prepared for the winter blizzard that savaged the Midwest during the first week of January, 1999. Living on a dirt road in the country, miles from the nearest small village, tens of miles from a larger town, I found myself isolated and alone.

At some point during the three days I was trapped in my home, I realized it was more than snow and ice that kept me so. After all, I was born and raised in this climate, and many times as a boy I had braved worse weather with little concern. The young fear very little. And I found myself sadly missing a time when a blizzard would have been just another adventure to be met.

A Few Visitor Comments

A lovely, sad, lonely poem
This poem should give me a good grade in English I hope anyway and about thr poem itself it is very good.

Winter's Threads

Entrapped within a world of snow,
No where to be, no way to go,
I stand behind a silvered glass,
Watching Winter never pass.

Through window fogged with frozen breath,
I catch a glimpse of frozen death,
A tiny bird who stayed too long,
His tiny breath forever gone.

I see tall oaks with fingers 'loft,
Gloves of living green long doffed,
Their silent prayer for Winter's end
Another echo in the wind.

My lake beneath a sheath of snow,
Beneath that sheath, hard ice of woe,
And farther yet the fish ensnared,
Their prison like the one I share.

I huddle 'hind my meager walls,
Abiding time through Winter squalls,
The fires I stoke small recompense
For solitude and loneliness.

I search my mind for memory,
A gleam of living history,
Of times I knew in times long gone
Before the break of Winter's dawn.

There was a Spring in youthful past,
Seen through another pane of glass,
Not knowing bonds of Winter's schemes,
But only sun and childhood dreams.

Yet age and life and love forlorn,
Are like the savage Winter's storm,
No where to be, no way to go,
And years are like the drifting snow.

The Earth will find another Spring
To stem the cold that Winters bring,
And that's the way the Earth should be,
But Spring has come and gone for me.

Entrapped within a world of past,
No where to be, no way to last,
I stand behind a silvered pane,
Watching Winter surely wane.

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© 1999 Ron Carnell Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.