In Praise of Winter . . .

Our seasons come as a blessing,
Changing the weather,
And bringing all sorts of dressing
To adorn the world.

The rain gives us fields that are soaked,
Lakes where grass once lay.
Cold mornings bring us shapes, frost-cloaked,
So fragile, until……….…

…The sun appears, low in the sky;
Smiles brighten faces.
When dull, grey clouds are forced to fly,
All is light and shade.

Yvonne Allen