It's proving to be another cold, harsh winter.
At least the old man can say he lived to another winter,
but that seems to be all. There's nothing but grey
everywhere - sky, distant treeline, snow-crusted earth.
All one unending dismal tone. The black fleck of a bird
breaks the monotony, but it's flying away from him and
in its grasp is the old man's tenuous thread to hope.
Please forgive me for not having posted since summer - I simply got too busy with gardening, yard work, taking care of my injured wife, other things and didn't seem to make time for my blog. Life is easing up some now and I anticipate being back after the blog and poetry shortly.