Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

 I was so glad to get back to Georgia after my sojourn in Indiana and Illinois.  I didn’t  so much mind the cold of those winters (OK, I did, sometimes), and I actually enjoyed the snow.  The problem was the way winter refuses to end up there!  When this Georgia boy was ready to see some dogwoods and azaleas blooming, there was still two more months of dreariness to be endured, with nothing green to be seen anywhere!



Forty degrees and gray and misting rain,

The sunrise just a lessening of gloom

(You’d hardly call it light) to say that Time

Had not yet wholly failed in its refrain.

Back home the dogwood trees would be in bloom;

Here snowdrifts linger, crusted o’er with grime.

So ends the pure white promise of December:

In April slush and mud it meets its doom–

And we can’t seem to make ourselves remember

Another season or another clime.

We know there once was sunlight; we assume

Somewhere above the clouds, in joy sublime,

It reigns.  But we need faith to fan the embers

Of hope down in this dank and dismal tomb.

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD