Dark, dreary, dank, raw cold and wet
Snow flurries morphed to grimy slush
The odd bird flying in no rush ...
More snow, we hear, is on its way
As the leaden skyline plans to stay
Chill winter's book has many pages
And not a ray of sun for ages...
City bikes flash past bare trees
Their tracks weave patterns as they freeze
Gutters weep - Jack Frost's attrition
So moon-lit granite cobbles glisten.
No help for it – the kitchen calls
Soon baking smells waft up the walls,
Lasagna, home-made biscuits, pie
Warm treats to die for – in the dry!
(c) Poet in the woods 2019
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