By Pete Tucker

Pretend, if you will,
The calendar is in reverse.
It is sunny this morning,
But the weather is soon a curse.

You are once long ago.
There is little way of knowing
That in less than a day
It surely will be snowing.

Winter’s fury rages.
Of a sudden life is tougher.
Getting all the work done
‘Tis your lot to suffer.

The temperature dips to zero.
The livestock all need feeding.
The cattle here are lowing.
At the trough, sheep are bleating.

It is a farmer’s chorus,
The sounds of her every day.
Surely Spring is coming,
If it will only find its way.