Midwinter Notes.

The gift of a robin's song

so sweetly sung above my head,

with notes of joy that fall

unto the heart.

Rarely seen the way-fare deer

now stepping, soft of cloven hoof

upon the new born Christmas Day.

And greying shades of reminiscience

tumble through the mind

as silent, as the bough-led 

squirrel leaping.

Longer hours, at night's recoil

shall urge the spring to call,

and though the winter's touch is keen

the spring has opened now her eyes.


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allets's picture

One Fine Image!

"...winter's touch is keen..." Well said - yrpoempalfromsnowymichigan :D



sweetwater's picture

Thank you,  I haven't seen a

Thank you,  I haven't seen a deer outside my back garden for ages, I looked out on Christmas morning and there he was, happily wandering about, with the two squirrels leaping about above his head,  the best present I could have.  xx