Winter
The rain drizzles — pitter patter —
on the river’s edge.
Fog hangs low in the holler.
The trees are naked —
all is still for winter.
And still, the birds sing.
The rain drizzles — pitter patter —
on the river’s edge.
Fog hangs low in the holler.
The trees are naked —
all is still for winter.
And still, the birds sing.