A cloudy winter morning after a prolonged freezing chill
All these months, not one but three
The burrows emptying their rations
Hearts gathering their paces
Young couple from their frictional warmth
Venturing into balconies hand in hand
We all disappear into a marble crowd.
It’s a pity it has to be strait-laced.
Once our characters were declared out loud.
Now with a chisel symbols are traced
which give little or no clue to character
except to claim that our absence is a cause for grief,
that the life eternal is the victor
though elsewhere if that is your belief.
Waking up to the lazy winter sun,
Perched on a tree sings a lark.
Lives seem indolent and lethargic,
Snow falls softly while the day is still dark.
They’ve fallen from the trees that now stand nude and pale,
So leaves my soul to figure what they hold;
I’m lying to myself (no falsehood in this tale),
but on my mind dwell truths about the cold.
Is the weather not presaging what will happen
to grass ploughed well in April, May, and June?
Hand in glove with you is He, nothing’ll mishappen
but the gloves you have worn may wear out soon.
Comes again the winter,
bringing to towns darkness
The Sun covered by clouds
tries hard to scatter light;
The light braves the dense fog
Watch I the brumous sight.
