Outside My Door

Last night I heard the north wind blow;

It seemed to hum a tune -

Enchanting was its mournful sound

Above a silvery moon.

It's wintertime outside my door,

I love the seasons so,

When as the Master Painter calls

And paints the earth with snow.

The land He touches with His brush

Seems picturesque and pure,

He is the Artist of all time -

Of this I'm very sure.

He is the Artist of the night

That hung the silver moon.

~ Katherine Smith Matheney