Here's a poem of mine in free verse. Also about winter, though this time without snow.

Infernal Winter Without Snow

[Written from a third floor room with a large window that exposed nature clearly.]




I believe the time when nature looks most lurid
Is during the winter when the shriveled, starving leaves
Have all fallen.
It is afternoon. There hovers not one cloud in the sky.
The sky exhibits the ill-hue
Of an anorexic sallow blue.
The stripped palsy trees appear so sickly
Against the livid-murky background:
Their weathered trunks extending
Their aching arthritic branches
Upon the dimmest draft “creee-k”
Like an old dying man rocking
On his ancient whining chair.
Because the clouds are not present
The ‘blind’ sun’s rays are not blocked,
and because the temperature remains mild,
Generally cool and crisp– maybe numb cold–
The sun’s beams feel rather LUKEWARM,
Void of pleasant comfort and radiant delight.

Thus spoke the Angel of the Lord:
“I know thy works,
That thou are neither cold nor hot:
I would thou wert cold or hot!
So then because thou art LUKEWARM,
And neither cold nor hot,
I will spue thee out of my mouth.”