Black lace trees embroider the horizon
Scratching the dull steel-grey sky
Plumes of damp wash silent meadows

Stark winds whip foaming skies
Rods of rain lash the ground
Battering fields to seas of mud

Short days weighted with promised snow
As silent fox runs urban gauntlets
Cloaked in twilight, seeking food

Clear starred skies and scents of frost
Still chilled and held in ice,
The night-time of the dormant year

Lifeless blades of grass bent low
Meeting the hardened ground
Wrapped tight in earth’s cold store

Winter’s hibernation incubates the new
And nascent Spring awaits
Birth of the journey once again

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2 Responses to Winter

  1. marian philips says:

    A lovely, evocative poem which lends images and descriptions of winter’s chill.

    • the burrower says:

      Thank you for that Marian, let’s hope there’s not too much of the chill and at least some more of the bright sun we’ve had so far.

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