Winter’s Ways

With frosted flakes and crystal glaze
Swathes of snow and chilling haze
Crunching ice on hard pathways
Coldly creep the winter days.

Grey the colour of the season
Grey the skies above the trees and
Grey the mist and fog that’s freezing
No one’s without without good reason

Time of coldness, time of dearth
Time to measure life’s true worth
As suspended stands the earth
All awaiting spring’s rebirth

E.M. Swift-Hook