The autumn sun warms, yet she also deceives
as she dances through woodland
on crisp golden leaves;
Behind her sweeps North wind ~ whistling and whirling
sending leaves scurrying,
twirling and swirling
into myriads of colour ~ reds, greens and golds
As autumn draws closer,
so her gown she unfolds.

A squirrel looks on, surveying the scene ~
Scanning the debris
Where North wind has been ~
His cupboard needs stocking
with food that will last
for there'll be no more until winter has passed ~

Rushing around, laying up store
Nuts and sweet berries,
Acorns galore
Hurrying, scurrying, hither and yon ~
There is so much to do
Before daylight is gone
Night will fall soon, and his home needs repair ~
There's a definite chill
in the late autumn air ~
Mosses and mud, a few feathers, some straw
All can be found
on the bare woodland floor.
Now safe in his drey, tightly curled,
Snug and warm
He's ready to face the worst winter storm.

As the night deepens,
Old Hoar frost comes creeping
Working his magic
Whilst the world lay a-sleeping
He covers the land with crystals of white
That sparkle and dance
In the still of the night
Until daylight dawns on this wondrous array
When the frosty magician
Whisks them away!

Winter drags on ~ cold days, and grey
What of the squirrel
Fast asleep in his drey?
Has he done enough to ensure he'll survive?
When the first Spring rays beckon
Will he still be alive?

Does anyone know?
Will anyone care
For the fate of the squirrel
Who took weeks to prepare
For the winter?…

Catwoman

 
WINTER

Who wants you, white winter here?
Your sneaking under the bedroom's door
The cold flash when I walk outside
To meet you in your own domains.

 

Your pretended love hides the sun
Snuffing it beneath a blanket of grey clouds
You might freeze everything around
But you cannot reach my heart!

 

Who needs you, prince of frozen days?
King of chilly windy nights:
The realms where your icy fingers point
I want to keep as far as I can

 

Stay back, do not come near me.
Keep the crystal-clear beauty of snowflakes
For the worshippers of deep-freeze,
Famine, skulls and icy graves.

 

I will resist you with all I have:
My fiery passion will keep you outside.

© Salvador Oria 10-11-2003

 

 
Winter's Trees

Skeleton trees stand gaunt against the sky
No longer clothed in the gracious green of spring
And shreds of fiery garments beneath them lie
Life hides its head away from winter's sting.

The clouds grow black across the looming moors,
The blast of winter's chill begins to rise,
And without the leafy shelter assaults the doors
Now skeleton trees stand gaunt against the skies.

And yet there is a beauty in those boughs
Whose gracefulness maturity will bring
Through the ravages of storms so wild and rough
When no longer clothed in the gracious green of spring.

For spring's light green is delicate and frail
Though its tracery is delightful to the eye,
Too soon the orange shades of death prevail
And the shreds of fiery garments beneath them lie.

Dianthus2

 
Snow

One night, as everybody sleeps,
The clouds settle on the ground below.
A child wakes up, and rejoices,
At the sight of the pure white snow.

Liscense-to-Slay

 
Winter Solstice, Cardington Park

Overhead is opal, turning sapphire,
down to turquoise, and then blue.
The sun is cold above the trees
on the far side of the reservoir.

A weeping willow, a reedy bank,

a few leaves, downcast, waiting.

And now three swans approach,
looking for bread, expecting none.
They glance, reflect and dazzle

like tomblight on the darkest day.

Ossian

 
The stream is danty upon the razeing blown of the heart? Finding ice and tweaing like passion fruit! The rivers stocks minky beneath the nile. Stems seas wilterness ponders great vilue? Long stems of roses,

While snowbunnies in the snow and Angels we offen make solid turn into water moosh? We create a masterpiece called letting your mother alone! When children come from winters night air they rebail and cry because it is really cold! Hot coco is good for some things, Mainly stop children from crying? Blast of winter scerths around the sky! And appears so invigerrating, Columness relates natures wellbeing and feelings of the heart? Time has no sense, Beauty of winter is happyness, And laughter. Beging in touchby phone, Or by E mail,Or Telagrem

Marcy

 

 
Winter Sonnet

As soon as I awake I sense night’s change,
a whiter light diffuses through the drapes,
dawn’s sounds are muffled, somehow re-arranged,
the outside world is clothed in ermine cape.
Wild Nature has reclaimed her rightful throne;
strong branches bow to welcome in the day.
A pristine canvas lies around my home,
to take the print of daily work and play.
Footpaths and roads are levelled by the storm,
which twists and swirls the topmost crystal flakes.
Large drifts and abstract sculptures start to form;
the landscape changes to a softer shape.
Tomorrow may bring in a warmer day
and winter’s icing will soon melt away.

Phoebe

 

 

Grey Day

 

A shivering sparrow

Pecks at a seed ball

Rain running down it's beak

Dead flowers rot

Dirty grey fog

Drapes itself over the sky

Stealing every scrap of life and colour

From the dying year

No bright sun or sparkling snow

But tired people wrapped

In  layers of wet wool

Coughing, spitting discretely

Depression central

I go back to bed

And dream of summer.

 

SuzzieUK

 

 

 

 
Winter Morning, Withernsea

Even before you're truly awake
something rare has taken hold.
See how the light stands solid,
enclosing the room
in a chaos of fern.

Feel the hands that have wound this
icy design about the house.
If you put an eye to the window,
they will be out there,
waiting to bind you too.

A penny warmed in the mouth
burns a precise disc
in the window glass.
Infinite white
bears silence
to the far distance.

In the frozen ocean,
the old men of the town,
like so many Ancient Mariners,
wait for a breeze
to release them.

Ted Slade

 

 

Retreating

 

It's the darkness in the morning that gets to us,
Scraping the car and shivering until the heater gets going.
Going back to bed would be great,
But simply not possible.
You know that and so do I.

 

Later at work,
Dreaming out the window.
Sky never turning from grey.
Sun seems gone forever
And the smiles on faces too.

 

Dark in the evening as we return home.
Exhausted by doom and by gloom.
Those fellows working together,
To drive us indoors for the evening
And to keep us there until Spring.

 

Hot food and hotter drinks,
Warm and snuggly in bed.
Lucky, we think, to live here,
Retreating briefly from the world.

 

NoSpoons