Winter

Winter in the Valley

The sun now gone to take the seasons rest,
So cold, so bleak, the vine can bear no more,
The most unwanted season of the west,
Thick fog and mist now fill the valley floor.

The trees made humble, stripped to be so plain,
A storm builds slowly on the horizon
Green and rolling hills blessed by the new rain,
Great winds become Mother Nature’s sirens.

Winter’s curious darkness is looming,
While the days become indolent and brief
The valley prepares herself for blooming,
No change in sight; erroneous belief.

Overlooked allure of this winter’s spell,
Each dreamy day has its dim parallel.