Global Mourning


Within the dark midwinter
The clouds rush overhead,
Yet never falls a snowflake-
Just sleet and hail instead.

The wind howls bitter cold out
One day, and then the next
The sun comes out to warm us-
The grateful and perplexed.

Each year adds one degree now
To mercury's gray flow;
And I just wonder when will
The children see it snow?

--Megan Morris, meikundayo@yahoo.com