The days are short,
The sun a spark,
Hung thin between
The dark and dark.
Fat snowy footsteps
Track the floor.
Milk bottles burst
Outside the door.
......
He raised his eyes to the wintry skies,
And watched the northern lights.
He walked a guardian route on a frozen night,
And was guided home by the North Star's light.
For many years this guardian reigned,
Over man and beast in his domain.
Then came that time of year,
When all the land said, "Spring is here".
With the flowers and the fawns, a stranger came,
They talked of how it was different and yet the same.
......
From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffalo who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Looking for the rain
Just like the cities staggered on the coastline
Living in a nation that just can't stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway
Never had a chance to grow
......
Today I opened wide my eyes,
And stared with wonder and surprise,
To see beneath November skies
An apple blossom peer;
Upon a branch as bleak as night
It gleamed exultant on my sight,
A fairy beacon burning bright
Of hope and cheer.
'Alas! ' said I, 'poor foolish thing,
......
My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.
God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.
......
Winter a season
to show reason
this time there is no treason.
Where thoughts are provoked to ponder.
The snow, the wind, the rain
wild and purposeful
friends without pacts
never seeking gain.
A visit in turns
a scope for returns
......
In the heart of winter, I stand,
Surrounded by a landscape of white silence.
The snow blankets the earth,
Each flake a delicate touch,
Soft, yet unyielding in its cold embrace.
The trees are skeletal fingers,
Reaching up to a sky of muted gray,
Their limbs bare, stripped of life,
Yet beautiful in their stark simplicity.
......
Winter wraps us in her cold embrace,
Icy chills whipping across our face.
Leafless bough; a muddy place,
Winter is showing us; her harsh face.
Looing out from atop Pinnacle Hill,
Church Spires wrapped in a misty chill,
Bredon in the distance; cold and still,
Winter is settling down on every hill.
......
A winter footprint in prime
I wasn't looking for the love of crime.
A well meaning will, mended
by spoken cloth.
Reluctant snow bought
pressure for me to bow
weathered eyes beneath my brow.
Sheltered but warns a busy storm
an unlikely norm.
Soon delightful words to corn.
......
In winter's shroud, the moon arises, a sage,
Clad in robes of frost, her visage grave and pale.
She wanders 'mongst the sleeping, barren age,
A silent sentry in the velvet veil.
Her gaze, a shepherd's crook, guides weary souls,
Through nights of ice and desolation's hold.
Beneath her lantern, fields of snow unroll,
Where silence whispers tales of ancient scrolls.
......