The Heathers on the hillside
And Buttercups in the
meadow
The Bluebells in the
woods
And Orchids in the
hedgerow
What a green and
pleasant land
Where the wild flowers
grow
The Heathers on the hillside
And Buttercups in the
meadow
The Bluebells in the
woods
And Orchids in the
hedgerow
What a green and
pleasant land
Where the wild flowers
grow
The piercing of the wind
Iced like the mountain peaks
Brought water to my eyes
And a stinging to my
cheeks
It left hands too cold
to grip
And lips to numb to
speak
It cut through my
cloak
And made the outlook
bleak
Some crumbs of bread
Some bacon rind
Perhaps some nuts
Might be kind
It’s up to you
To decide what’s best
To set upon the table
For Robin red breast
The wind howled around the house
And whistled through
the trees
Bringing snow in
blizzards
The strong winds
across the rooftops
Whipped up the loose
grains
And chased them like
white ribbon
Across the grey slate
It wasn’t pretty snow
Nor did it present a
pretty scene
Not at all picturesque
Or picture postcard
Snow was blown in
horizontally
With great ferocity
And as I drew the drapes
It spattered the
casement windows
I shivered and thanked
God
I was safely home
After the ice storm
The world was
transformed
A hushed silence had
descended
And the landscape
Had change shape
Everything had
softened
The ice rimed trees
Stood like great ice
pillars
In the snow queens
cathedral
Fountains cascaded no
more
The waterfalls became
abstract art
And fresh snow was
falling
Like confetti at a
winter wedding
Outside an ice
sculpted church
The seasons come and go
Almost monotonous I
know
One after another, as planned
Like the sweep of a
clock hand
Each season reminding
us all
That from winter to
the fall
Is yet another year
slipped by
A step closer to when
we die
A depressing thought I
know
But let the seasons
come and go
For I think it would
be a crime
If there was to be no
wintertime
A silent soft blanket of white
Had hidden the land
from sight
It’s our job to
investigate the crime
Really we want to have
a good time
We sledge and we
toboggan
Build the world’s
biggest snowman
We have a massive
snowball fight
Doing battle till the
enemy took flight
Then we stomp thru the
powdery crunch
Making our way home to
have lunch
The mist cascaded down the hillside Like a maiden’s hair Tumbling onto her shoulders The bare branches of the birch trees Pierced ...