Winter / by Brian Kunde

Winter
by Brian Kunde

Winter’s breath has wound its way
Down the foothills by the Bay,
And the campus curdles colder
Than on days of seasons older.

Skies once blue are washed in gray,
Spitting pits of rain our way,
Damping down the drought-drained ground,
Till it’s quite completely drowned.

Pathways squish, and pavement’s puddled.
Students are by colds befuddled.
Prudent people keep inside:
Stepping out is suicide.

Colder goes the climate, and
Soon the frost is on the land:
See the parklands turning pale.
Rain has given way to hail.

Biting wind, that chill invader,
Sinks the season to its nadir.
Still, although we feel cursed,
We’re aware we’re spared the worst.

East and north, our students know,
Home’s been buried under snow.
So they’re happy, though it’s drear,
They’re not dwelling there—but here.

* * * * *

Winter
(A Stanford Garland ; 10)

from A Stanford Garland and Other Verses, Sep. 2007.
An earlier version appeared in
SUL News Notes, Vol. 3, no. 45, Dec. 9, 1994, as “Winter at Stanford.”

1st web edition posted 1/2/1996.
2nd web edition posted 9/4/2007.
This page last updated 9/4/2007.