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Winter

Though snug in bed the mists
come creeping in,
to freeze the toes, or chill
the uncovered chin.
We hug the fire till its last
glowing embers,
and night skies reflect the
starlight in December.
The dying leaves soft fall,
through burdening rain;
the shifting day breathes
silent fog again;
and birds sit cold on trees
no songs to sing,
nor movement – save the head
tucked under wing.
But ice and hoarfrost dress
the countryside,
In fairy pearls and diamonds,
festooned far and wide.

Sally Grey

Poetry by SallyGrey