Winter Hymn

Winter Hymn
Ron Rollins

Night wind shakes the house,
rattles winter windows.
Awake, I flick

off flatscreen weather jabber,
wrap myself in a blanket from the couch
and go out. I know how the stand

of tall pines sounds in a wind like that.
Beneath them, I listen, sway and

hum as they moan. Long trunks creak
like ancient ships, branches sigh low, sigh soft
and needles crunch underfoot as

I remember: Neruda says, “Night wind spins
in the sky and sings.” He’s right;
in the steeple of my yard-pines

the winter keens,
its hymn cold, wondrous, and fine.

about the author
Ron Rollins is a writer, editor and painter in addition to being a husband, father and grandpa. He lives in Kettering and has only recently gotten around to sharing his poetry.

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