WINTER AT EAST LAKE (After Ou Yang Hsiu) by George Freek

There are no flowers
to see on the hills.
This snow has destroyed
my will. It covers
the branches, where
buds used to grow.
The wind on the lake
makes a fearful moan,
and my roof cracks as if
by a lethal blow.
I am snowbound,
and unable to write.
My fingers are cold.
I wonder if this
dreary mood is
because of winter, or
because I’ve now grown old.

 


George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Belvidere, IL. His poetry has recently appeared in ‘Off Course’; ‘The Ottawa Review of the Arts’; ‘Carcinogenic Poetry’; ‘Limestone Journal’; and ‘The Sentinel Literature Quarterly’. His plays are published by Playscripts, Inc; Lazy Bee Scripts; and Off The Wall Plays.

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