While I sat beside a snow shovel and pondered
never forgotten strife that came that December.
Our winter wears were still safely stored in an
old cedar chest at the foot of our large bed.
Wood smoke rose from our cabin by the lake
inviting to those chilled to the bone that day.
My arms and hands were worn and beaten,
moving those heavy barrels of apple cider.
Blustery cold winds made my eyes teary as the
old horse slowed only to cross the icy brook.
My walking stick plunged deep in blowing snow;
the fireplace felt nice, helping melt away the cold.
The feeling finally returned to fingers and toes as
an early blizzard shook us all upon a day that fall.
Whispering a prayer I pondered about this frosty
cold and the upcoming winter’s solstice.
Snow kept falling and covered over our windows.
During those frigid days of December’s cruel wake,
Old Man Winter sat upon his throne, laughing!
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, prize winning poet and fabulist from New Hampshire, now residing on the plains of Oklahoma. He is a proud member of the Poetry Society of New Hampshire. Ken has three poetry collections, "The Cellaring", "A Taint of Pity", and "Zephyr's Whisper". Ken was selected as the First Prize Winner in Realistic Poetry International 2018 and 2019 Nature Poetry Contests. He was recently selected as Poet of the Month for Spillwords Press. He's been nominated three times the Pushcart Prize and six times for Best of the Net. Ken loves writing, hiking, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.