Winter <br />Last night grey Winter made his first foray <br />And stole away kind Autumn’s russet cloak. <br />Where on the grass where tumbling leaves did play <br />A glittering pall he spread and at a stroke <br /> <br />Each muddy lane by frost is crusted hard <br />Whilst skeletons of trees like mourners stand <br />And crystal ice is shattered shard on shard <br />by stamping feet that tramp the rigid land. <br /> <br /> Nature now acts as if the world was spent <br />as drifting snow provides a winding sheet. <br />Whilst keening winds howl out a wild lament <br />And for the bitter tears, the driving sleet. <br /> <br /> <br />But Death can die by Resurrection too <br />For ’neath that oak a pale green shoot peeps through.<br /><br />Michael Morris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-12/
