Out On The Hill

The snow falls soft out on the hill,
The sky is growing gray,
The winter’s coming with a will,
And can’t be kept away.

A stillness sits upon the yard,
The drifts are growing higher —
This life is beautiful, but hard:
It’s all we could

Desire

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “Out On The Hill”

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