By John F. Neiley
Glenwood Springs
The tattered remnants of the year unwind
As Earth leans weary on its wobbling pole.
The waning sun retreats to warmer climes
To shield its pallid face from wind and cold.
The ragged butt ends of the day burn low,
While darkness of the longest night draws near.
The river ebbs and freezes, choked and slow;
Storm clouds looming, dismal, black and drear.
What hope can stand as winter’s reign impends?
That grim reminder of our own demise.
Just this:
The crackling fire, a merry feast, strong friends,
Sweet laughter, and the summer in your eyes.