Oh, the winter enters so quickly
That one forfeits the sight of color,
Leached away from life and limb
In its gelid cold and frigid hold.
Varied grays enshrouded the sky
With clouds pregnant with dense vapor
Above the gloomy landscape
Of gray-barked, skeletal trunks
Of leaflets trees with spindly arms.
The slate gray lanes stretched ahead
In never-meeting parallels
Bordered by sepulchral white lines.
Conifers stood sentry in charcoal gray
Speckled with previous flurries.
What is ahead in my road, but Gray
That stole away all vitality?
Or do I see pearly white streaking
Through the gray-mantled sky?