Winter

The wind’s blowin’ leaves across the street

It’s sure getting cold down ‘round here.

Westerlies start blowin’; rain turns to sleet

I could easily hate this place this time of year.

Water from the fountains fall across the paths,

Everywhere the grass is turning yellow.

Wood fires, and pine-cones crackling in hearths

Fashion styles for women are more mellow.

Tree-tops toss and writhe in the windy gusts,

All of Nature’s starting to look bleak.

Hot-food shops cater for people’s hunger-lusts,

And the colour of the gardens become weak.

The sky is grey-blue ashen, rather overcast

Sparrows cry and wheel upon the wing

Sunshine wanes; its time of reign is past

And people’s hearts are yearning for the spring.

MDC 14/05/81