Stray birds pull their ruffled feathers in,
Defying winter's savage bite.
Shuffling, foot to foot, desperate to spot
An errant, turning worm
Poking out from soiled bed
Into the bleak and watery light.

Straggling, battered grass cover meadows low
Blades, biding time, inexorably slow to grow

Leafbuds, slightly furled at edge,
Jig round and round incessantly.
Clasped tightly by the wind, a cruel embrace.
Thin remnants of some faded Autumn wear
Cast off below,
Tumbling blindly, here and there

Over the dormant gardens, waiting, hibernating
Hearing past and future echoes
Of far off Summer days.