Our garden lies silent and serene,
Beds are barren, no longer green,
Hiding under the ice and snow,
Chickweed and henbit are rampant, I know.
The hay barn, very old and gray,
Looks somber in the light of day,
The snow covered mulch mound,
Like a beaver den on the ground.
The scaffolding, normally covered in vines,
Looks so lonely at this time,
There will be no children hiding in there,
No happy sounds in the garden to hear.
Wind chimes sound hollow and cold,
Bringing images of gnomes of old,
Birds are quiet, no laughter in their voice,
This weather gives them no other choice.
My well of wishes is empty today,
I'll fill it with geraniums on a sunny spring day,
Smile to myself remembering this day,
"I'm glad winter's gone", I'll say.
The standing stone sits lonely and bare,
Normally covered with the plants growing there.
No birds visiting, perching on his top,
No Kittens crouched, ready to hop,
On unsuspecting little crawly things,
Which warm weather and sunshine bring,
Waiting for toads and lizards hiding there,
No kittens, in the sun, grooming with care.
The blackberries fenced to keep out the deer,
The snow covered ground keeps roots warm, never fear,
Last year, heavily burdened branches,
Invited the marauders, increasing their chances,
Of scoring a free meal,
With berries hanging in reach, to steal.
Our green house silently waits,
For us to open the garden gate,
Inviting everyone to see the plants within,
Bringing the owners a satisfied grin.