“Winter’s Withered Hand”, a poem

Winter Scene, 3


Winter’s withered hand

Scrapes across muted landscapes

And steals comfort from a sullen earth.


Birds fall frozen to the ground,

Lambs to the seasonal slaughter,

Ducks held fast in unflinching ice.


The elders give up the ghost ,

Just fade away

In this death-howling season and

Pale newborns struggle towards warmth.


In this silenced land of winter,

colors stark, dissolved,

Black limbs lifted to a somber sky

Like wooden beggars pleading for alms.


I listen for the melting

One unseasonable day—

The breaking of ice around a dam,

The baby babble of some brook

The laugh of a crow overhead,

The drip-drip of a leaky faucet—


The earth will turn

On its axis

And with this

Comes the promise

Of Spring.



Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted,  2016

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4 Responses to ““Winter’s Withered Hand”, a poem”

  1. Sherry Blue sky Says:

    So beautiful. I can feel the cold. Love the phrase “like wooden beggars pleading for alms.”


  2. ladynyo Says:

    Hi Sherry! Thank you for reading and sending a comment. I revised it a little just now…..for some sake. LOL! I love the cold, but so many suffer because of it. As I age, I feel it deep in my own bones. Glad you found this poem to your liking.



  3. Liras Says:

    How sweetly and gracefully do you describe one of my favorite times of the year.


  4. ladynyo Says:

    You, too? LOL! I love the clean pallet look to Winter. A very few years ago I wrote so many winter ballads….that I was tripping over them and keeping a chill because of them. LOL! But I love Winter for what it makes us face, and attend to.

    Thank you, Liras for reading and your lovely comment.

    Liked by 1 person

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