Frigid winds blow barren branches,
the sky is nickel grey.
Crystal snowflakes come drifting down,
Winter seems here to stay.
Jagged icicles hang in a row,
the snow is getting deep.
Logs are crackling in the fire,
it’s a prime time to sleep.
The days are short, the nights are long,
it’s bitter cold outside.
But the woods are a wonderland
with beauty far and wide.
I’m happy to enjoy the view
from my window here each day;
I am content because I know
Spring can’t be too far away.
Down deep below the drifts of snow,
a dormant crocus lies.
Soon it will push through thawing sod
to greet the bright March skies!
Bruce Fabian Mancevice