Ice sculpture

Air surges freezing from the east
Its chill enhanced by raging wind
Still powdered white these leaves, not those
And feeling pinched are fingers, toes
Bare branches wild thrash toe and fro
Of those that sleep but somehow know
That winter has us in its grip
Allowing not a drop to drip

‘Now wrap up warm,’ I hear her say
‘Before you go outside to play.’
In far off days of carefree joy
When Nature watched a little boy
While slipping, sliding, compressed white
Snow crystals from gloved hands took flight
And he of coal eyes, mouth and nose
Stood somewhere near in easy pose

I look into the cold blue sky
With sculpted smile of times gone by

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Temporary thaw

Photo courtesy John Walker 

The grey clouds, featureless and low
Bring moisture from the southern seas
As winter waits not far away
And other forces hold their sway

Rain falls where frost has lately lain
Across this land of leafless trees
A patchwork still of sleeping green
Adds colour to the wintry scene

The annuals are still alive
Within their pots upon the wall
Somewhat bedraggled now it’s true
But precious are their days so few

Flowers of the rose in frozen joy
It seems, dance still upon the breeze
As blackbirds dart in search of fare
Within that movement always there

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Face of winter

First frost arrives as powdered white
Upon those staring to the night
A tingle added to that drawn
The breath of life each moment born

Cold quietness lingers, settles down
Oblivious to smile or frown
Storms that so long have had their way
By winter’s hand are held at bay

Sun’s rays are warm that pierce the air
To fall upon those few parts bare
Between the ice clouds drifting by
Upon that frozen sea of sky

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Snowbound

I look out on a winter world
The sky reflects the shining snow
Dark shapes reveal the warmth of life
Asleep or cowering in the glow

Birds search below for meagre fare
And wait for breadcrumbs to arrive
Some people old must wait for friends
Or family them to revive

Geese fly on high to other climes
Their gobbling chatter fills the air
Perhaps tales told to pass the time
Until they reach what’s waiting there

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Snow motion

The snow is piling up outside
its flakes swirl in the blusterous wind
and drifts rise up to confront those
who struggle home with runny nose.

Birds flit uncertain to and fro
no doubt disturbed by Nature’s fling:
a robin, blackbirds, bluetits small,
and crows on high with raucous call.

A world of white as formed anew,
shapes unfamiliar to the eye
rise up as flotsam in a sea
of frozen waves that moves in me.

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Polar Continental

The east wind chills my fingers, toes
oozing through cracks too thin to see
and draws my thoughts first here then there
a tug-of-war it seems to be.
Two pairs of socks might do the trick
the heating raised another click
but still that eerie wavering call
would leave me cold, so this is all.

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Snow in the Netherlands

I come to cover all in white
bring crispness to the cold of night.
My crystals fall to mesmerize
awaken memories that rise.

The winter is my time of year
from anywhere I can appear.
In showers born over warmer seas
or clouds brought by the easterlies.

This year and end of last it’s true
I’ve drifted and become ice too
but for the children it’s a treat
to build a snow man in the street.

The sledge when greased again appears
to slip and slide to laughs and cheers
and snow balls fly from many hands
to shrieks and cries from where one lands.

A wondrous landscape meets the eye
of one still young and brings a sigh
for though some wish me far away
warm hearts find magic in my play.

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