A sonnet to the Coming of Winter


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When Autumn breaks, gives way to white snow

We race to play in our wintry fields

Make our first steps in the untouched White glow,

Then down icy track so the crisp crust yields.

Red cheeked, a red robin, balancing high

On frosted cold ledge on Jack’s Frosted eave.

A burning warm fire permits our happy sigh;

We love the deep Winter, knows it’s a truth.

Outside our children dance in the pure snow;

hurl quick-scooped white balls at each cold face

Then scream in delight, duck their heads well low.

They play, mother-clothed, in that new place.

Smiling at memory, the adults take a breath

And consider themselves, by warm Winter,….blest.

Kind Regards

travelswithadiplomat



Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , ,

1 reply

  1. Beautiful! Winters – my favourite time of the year.

    Like

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