|And now, with the pensive coming of the winter,
It's time to see the beauty of bare trees
And glimpse the rugged silver of the river
So long hidden by the summer leaves.
It's time to feel the crisp, cold clarity
Of frost that rips right through the veil of air,
Revealing distant mountains one can see
Distinctly, as though suddenly quite near.
Oh, yes, one may be shuddering with the cold
And shuffling like a penguin 'cross the ice.
Yet as the year comes closer to its close,
It's time to treasure well the lingering light.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon