While driving through the country in Woodford County, Ill., shortly before Christmas, 1976, I came up with the idea for this poem. The beauty of winter is obvious, but what about the times when there is no snow? This poem was published by a small Wisconsin-based magazine in 1986.

The land grows barren,

brown, lifeless cold earth.

The grass and weeds sleep,

as naked trees scrape the skies.


Corn stalks droop

like indian spears at

the end of a cowboy movie.


The farmhouses jut out

against the gray background

barns, sheds, mailboxes,

the roadside is a dreary

place in winter.


Few are on the road this day,

the farmland awaits the spring,

the land rests.