Home is a glen deep and wide Rounded by mountain sides, The lofty sentinels overlook Forested slopes and cozy nook. From woody glen autumn is gone And I wait for winters spawn, Soon the season will lay down Grays from sky to soggy ground. I'm roosted in expecting them, At the mercy of winter's whim, They will come quickly I know With sea winds that coldly blow. Gray days will descend to linger Unfolding their ashen fingers, Creeping over the countryside, Spreading gloom far and wide. Into my valley they will descend Smothering with a grayish blend Concealing everything from sight Within a gown of clouded white. The snow-capped mountain peaks Will be the only ones to get a peek At the world outside my glen of gray When the dense days settle to stay. As the sea winds blow the pale in Clouds will settle low in my glen, For months I'll see nothing at all When those days of gray fall. Held in the wet embrace of a cloud Shades of gray will be my shroud Until spring breezes from the sea Push away the gray to uncover me. ©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 12-20-07 Return   Poetry By Ken   Guestbook   Email Ken To send this page to someone