Skeletal trees stripped bare
Dressed now in ice and
frost
As they shiver in the
wind
Longing for the summer
lost
Skeletal trees stripped bare
Dressed now in ice and
frost
As they shiver in the
wind
Longing for the summer
lost
A picturesque valley scene
Like a fairyland of
pure delight
Viewed through a
window
To avoid the winter’s
bite
In the sheltered winter lowlands
Every inch and acre
Are dusted white,
almost as if
Sugared by a cake
decorator
As the storm front closes in
The Gulls desert the
cliff top
To find safe haven deep
inland
And wait for the storm
to stop
The fishing boats bob and dance
Driven by weather to
the south
Making slow progress
in the swell
As they approach the
harbour mouth
Swooping Gulls screech alarms
High above the cliff
top
As white horses ride
the waves below
And the tide is broken
to a stop
My face has been washed clean
And my hair is the
best it’s been
So I must smile and
not fidget
For the annoying photographer
twit
But when he asks “where’s
the birdie”
I will frown and look
surly
Bathed in summer sunshine Gentle breezes stir the stems But above in the golden sun Grow an array of perfect gems