The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.
All day long you'll squint at the gray sky.
When the wind blows you'll shiver like straw.

A meek little lamb you grew your wool
Till they came after you with huge shears.
Flies hovered over open mouth,
Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,
The bare branches reached after them in vain. 

Winter coming. Like the last heroic soldier
Of a defeated army, you'll stay at your post,
Head bared to the first snow flake.
Till a neighbor comes to yell at you,
You're crazier than the weather, Charlie.

Poet: Charles Simic
Poem: Against Winter
Poem of the Day: Oct 2 2006

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Against Winter, has received 19 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own.