It is pushing me from behind
As I face to the south
Looking for any warmth
Old Sol may provide
It is crunching beneath my feet
As the frost penetrates the soil
It is not far away
As others are buried
In a Christmas card scene
It is rushing to finish a season
That could end any day
It is coming
We will each deal with it
In our own way
Some embrace it
Some just hibernate or flee to warmer places
Many just try to go about their daily life’s
Waiting for winter
For it is one of four seasons
In the northern climes
antilandscaper 
Jon – I love this photo. Absolutely wonderful. I also like your new format except these old eyes have trouble with the light red font. LOL
Thanks, I will agree about the color of fonts, but not sure how to correct without spending money on it
Hi theantilandscaper. Thank you for liking my poem ‘ Trail of Blood!’ Take care. The Foureyed Poet.