I can’t believe its January
What sky so vivid blue
Its small white dots of wispy cloud
With tints of orange hue,
Mild breeze blows soft and gentle
Low sun casts shadows long
As hedgerows bud prematurely
Small birds shrill out their song,
Winter seems but just a dream
As its harshness dwindles low
But may still awaken daggers drawn
Bringing with it ice and snow.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Ray Boorman.
Published on e-Stories.org on 01/11/2012.