Winter has come round again, by Yvonne Aburrow
Winter has come round again
In his old shaggy brown coat
Breathing on the window pane
He's a lean and hungry stoat
At the crossroads of the year
Under the eaves of the wood
Sets up his anvil and his gear
Craggy face in fustian hood
With his hammer beating out
Sharp sleet and piercing hail
Broken branches lie about
Threshed from trees by lightning's flail
Winter creeps across the land
Always seeking for the light:
Reaching out with wizened hand,
Paints the landscape pale and white.
Pares the trees down to bare bones
Whittling wood with his cold knife
The winter wind sighs and moans
Shaking the house with bitter strife
Yvonne Aburrow
4 October 2002