Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would
Many associate winter with the snow, cold weather, and longer days, but the season also brings with it popular holidays and the transition from the old year into the new. Browse our selection of poems about the winter season.