He knows no winter, he who loves the soil,
For, stormy days, when he is free from toil,
He plans his summer crops, selects his seeds
From bright-paged catalogues for garden needs.
When looking out upon frost-silvered fields,
He visualizes autumn's golden yields;
He sees in snow and sleet and icy rain
Precious moisture for his early grain;
He hears spring-heralds in the storms' turmoil
He knows no winter, he who loves the soil.
- Sudie Stuart Hager
...a collection of poems that sing, stun, or otherwise simply stick