A Winter Blizzard

The fallen snow crunches beneath  the heels, 
of my boots as I trudge through a field. 
A former orchard where blossoms once bloomed,
Now decayed, conspired with the gloom.

The snow keeps falling,  some gentle some fierce, 
As the wind begins whipping,  the chill does pierce. 
I clutch  my coat and pull it tighter, 
To continue on toward a vision much brighter.

There lies yet,  a cabin that waits ajar, 
With the scent of pine and a roaring  fire in hearth, 
A bed so soft to rest my weary head,  
seems yet so far in this season of the dead.

The sun soon departs, and the blizzard is blinding, 
With each step farther,  the chill seems  binding. 
Yet step again I must,  what happens to the stagnant stone, 
Blindly pressing the path to what I hope leads home.