Winter Sequence

Dawn's first light--
the sound of chopping wood
in the stinging cold;
Dream-thoughts come and vanish
in the half-asleep world.

Richard

Dropping split logs
Into the empty wood box--
Such hollow sounds!
The crow's fleeting caw echoes
Through the snow-filled woods.

Donna

Perched on bare limbs,
beneath a sunless sky;
rows of black crows
cast a pall upon the dusk.
Must night arrive so soon?

Paul

Limbs bare--
the snowman wearing
granddad's scarf,
out of the cupboard
absents the colour red.

Gillena

A hard winter wind
rattles windows and doors;
these poor old bones
still at last under blankets
and this big, old, red coat.

Don

A flicker
fires the dead wood awake--
The wind blows
against the coats and clothes
sheltered by winter's yellows.

Sunny

No spark of stars
only thickening clouds
unmoved by the winds--
a flickering candle flame,
soon it too will fade.

Paul

The blue light
of the guttering candle;
a cold wind
thrashes leafless branches
against the windowpane.

Richard

A red sun rises
Over the still, white farm--
Bitter cold;
The window's frost catches
My quivering breath.

Donna

If the dawn sun's glow
would only remain within
when black crows gather--
even though darkness intrudes,
my heart might still be light.

Paul

The bright sun
on a harsh winter morn;
my heart lifts
with dreams of Spring,
and warmth arises within.

Helen

A bitter wind
drives the deep cold
through the walls--
the little heat escapes;
what yearning for spring!

Richard

Suddenly the wind,
the cold, and all that yearning
gone with the first light,
filling the windows with pink--
as long as nothing moves!

Don

Though the wind blows cold,
the sun burns strong and fierce
as night turns to dawn--
it spreads light through old pines
and mirrors a warmth within.

Paul

The sun shines;
Hardwoods and hemlocks climb
Towards the light--
Withered trees move slowly
In search of the patient dawn.

Sunny