The Eve of Winter

 

A bleary sun hovers above the horizon

to illuminate a forest bereft of any foliage

I shade my eyes from a sun that stings

as it makes its final departure of the year

The land is tired and has fallen asleep

it is dormant in anticipation of Spring's resurrection

The birds have flown south to warmer climes

leaving a landscape abandoned and forlorn

The advancing winter shoots its arrows

which pierce the heart with a coldness to enter the marrow

From the elements of inhospitable inertia

we retreat into our waiting homes in search of warmth

Solace is found around a blazing fire place

where darkened figures gather in a huddle for a mutual warmth

Whilst outside an ill wind blows its chilling curse

and an owl hoots to announce its ghostly presence