Winter

Only a few months, but it feels so long!

A log in the clearing, abandoned, and stripped.
A pile of stones with the log in its grip.
No dogs to play, no birds to twitter, 
No children to laugh, only flowers to wither.
The grass has now stiffened and snow begins to fall.
A cloud’s frozen tears, bringing no cheer at all.
A flake drifts through trees’ branches, which autumn leaves bare.
More coat the delicate twigs, pulling down without a care.
A little lone hare stumbles through the cold loam.
Her eyes have grown tense: no time here to roam.
A tree is dying: at the ends of the spindly twigs
Dangle old, shriveled leaves, a threat, the ground to rig.

There's little warmth and little life,

But spring comes soon to melt this cold knife.