If The Coals Are Found

When tempest’s do gather with a chilling breath,

And mingle snow with sorrow's weeping rain,

The robin, aye, and swallow, bound for death

If winter's cruel dominion they sustain,

Do quit their cradles, borne on morning's wing,

A feathered host, and a caravan so fast 

Soon, the aunts, their urgent labor bring

To fill their coffers before the cold does cast.

Its icy mantle. 'It’s a season fraught

With careful toil for creatures, fowl, and man,

Who ponders how to shun the pangs of naught,

And scape the hunger in a grim winter's span.

Young Aliyan now melts the frozen ground,

And warms her spirit. If the coals are found.

©Poet Affaq 

#ForeverSonnets #Poetry