Author Burton Watson Mingling with the windthe snow comes falling;mingling with the snowthe wind comes blowing;by banked coalsI stretch my legs,idle, idle,in this grass huta shut-in,and counting, findthat the second month toolike a dreamhas come and gone Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments