All the trees are almost barren,
Now I can see farther across the hills.
Heavy knit sweaters folks are wearing,
Frost each morning sits on my windowsills.
Gathering wood for my old iron stove,
Hanging bird feeders in a nearby grove.
Filling my cup with hot spiced tea,
I’ll call on an old friend to share it with me.
Author: Eileen Clark ~ November 2018
Painting ~ Sycamores on Clear Creek, Oil on Canvas
John Elwood Bundy 1853 ~ 1913,
Image;: http://richmondartmuseum.org/collections/richmond-group/
kentucky55.wordpress.com 
Such wonderful rhythm. This poem feels cozy and just right for the season.
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Good morning and thank you for your warm comment. 🙂
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You’re very welcome.
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A cozy poem reflecting the winter season. Beautiful piece, Eileen.
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Hello Eugenia, thank you for your comment, my best regards.
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My pleasure, Eileen!
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Awesome poem! Love it so much❤❤❤😊😊😊
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Good day and thank you. 🙂
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Beautiful poem and photo.
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Hello and thank you Mags.
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Hello, Eileen. Good poem. Personally, I’m not looking forward to winter. Autumn and spring are the seasons I like best.
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Hi, I’m with you on that, thanks for reading and commenting , best regards.
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