November 13, 2020 Tom Atkins Poem: Laughing at Winter Laughing at Winter The rain has turned November cold. The grass browns. Most of the trees are stripped bare, winter come early. And yet, there are always the hangers on, bright remindersthat joy never diescompletely. Share this: Share on X (Opens in new window) X Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Print (Opens in new window) Print Like Loading...